Equilateral
by Mistress Euclid
Summary: In the E2 timeline, Trip, T'Pol and Archer enter into a polyfidelic relationship. AU. Contains: M/F, M/F/M and M/M.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of CBS/Paramount. No infringement is intended, and no money was made from this endeavor._

_Rating: M (Don't say I didn't warn you. This story contains tasteful smut of the m/f, m/f/m and m/m varieties._

_Author's Chapter Notes:_

_No smut 'til Chapter 2--sorry!_

* * *

Trip rounded the corner into an alcove and stopped in his tracks. Hess and some guy from Exobiology — who had absolutely no reason to be in Engineering, ever — were locked in an embrace. The guy appeared to be shoving his tongue down her throat, and his hand gripped her ass through her uniform. Trip backed away slowly. Considering her rather adorable ass objectively, he could hardly blame the guy. He just hoped that what he witnessed didn't become a habit. He didn't need his department, with it's plentiful alcoves and Jefferies tubes, to turn into the ship's go to spot for mid-day liaisons. He also hoped the whatever-his-name-was would treat her right. Hess deserved no less.

Trip sighed as he headed back to his office.

It had been four and half months since _Enterprise_ was thrown back in time. Four months since T'Pol and Archer had declared that there wasn't a way back through the corridor and they were all effectively exiles. None of them would ever see Earth again, let alone their friends and family. It was no wonder people had started to pair off and screw like bunnies. Archer hadn't exactly ordered people to start making babies, but he had stated the necessity for replacement crew rather firmly. That mandate, combined with the fact that they were all each other's only family now, meant that there had been a whole lot of fraternization lately.

Trip thought about his parents, what they must be thinking — or rather what they will think — when _Enterprise_ disappears in The Expanse. Bert, too. It had been hard enough on them all to lose Lizzie and now his family will lose him, too. He wondered if, maybe, he could convince Archer to let them leave behind some record and send it to Earth if they did manage to stop the first Xindi attack.

_Stop the first attack._ That thought alone made the exile worthwhile for Trip. If he could save Lizzie and all the millions of others, a life in exile wouldn't be to hard to accept.

Especially, since he was exiled on a ship he loved with people he loved.

As if she had read that last thought, T'Pol appeared in his office doorway. She was wearing the purple outfit that day. He liked the blue better, but the purple was nice, too. She looked beautiful and serene, less worn down than she had during the days before they were thrown back in time. She was also growing out her hair a little longer, which he didn't mind at all.

He inhaled. He could smell her Vulcan-ness from his chair, that mix of copper and spice that had become so familiar.

"We've contacted the Gilisians, and they are willing to trade us a supply of their reinforced plasma conduits for the trellium that remains in storage."

Trip exhaled with relief. The anomalies weren't as bad in this time period, and he hated having a cargo bay filled with stuff that was toxic to T'Pol. Plus, ever since he had gotten a look at the Gilisian conduits on a freighter they had encountered, he wanted them for Enterprise. Now, it looked like they would kill two of those proverbial birds with one stone.

"That's great news," he replied.

"Indeed," she replied, "The Captain has asked me to join the landing party, since Ensign Sato is under the weather. You'll be on the team as well, to inspect the conduits. You'll also be glad to know that the palace where we will be lodged sits adjacent to an aesthetically pleasing beach. It is a temperate zone, but it is late Spring and the water is expected to be warm. You should pack attire for swimming."

Trip grinned, not only because he was going to the beach but because he detected just a hint of flirtation in her tone. It almost felt like they were back to those early days in The Expanse, before the sex, when they just flirted all the time. Although the sex had been — well, downright glorious considering they were different species and her inexperience — it had affected the way they interacted with each other. They just weren't as comfortable as they had been before, when they were just friends.

"Are you going to pack your bathing suit?" he asked.

"I don't own one," she said, cooly.

"That's a shame."

She leaned over.

"Vulcans don't bother with swimwear, as we believe modesty is illogical and we can control our more primal urges. And I have been told that the Gilisians also swim without clothing."

With that, she turned and disappeared out his door.

_Great_, he thought, _Now I won't be able to stand up for the next fifteen minutes._

He took a deep breath. As the whole crew had started to pair off, he had been left curiously alone by the eligible women on the ship. He didn't have to be told why, either. It was as if he had "Property of Commander T'Pol" stamped on the backside of his uniform. _In Vulcan._ The whole ship assumed they were a couple, even though they had only had sex that one, incredible time.

But truthfully, he didn't mind that everyone thought they were a couple. He _wanted_ them to be a couple. The few times he had even tried to consider pairing off with a woman, he felt like he was cheating on T'Pol. Sex or no sex, they were a couple. He just needed to figure out a way to make her see that. And after that, he needed to figure out how to be what she needed.

That last part was what scared him. She had been raised in a culture of arranged marriages where couples only had sex every seven years. As much as that was a criminal waste in her case, he wondered if she would be happy married to a human that bombarded her with emotions and desires on a daily basis. She was raised to want affection from her mate. He needed to give her more than that. He needed to give her love. And passion. If they lived together, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her.

The one time they had had sex, it had gone supernova.

_The warm water that soothed his body did nothing for his restless mind. How many times had it been? He'd lost track. The first time was on the floor. Yeah, that counted as one time, despite three different positions and the foreplay. Then, they had done it in her bunk. She'd been on top for most of that time. Afterward, he had decided to shower, possibly go back to his quarters or stay if she was okay with it. He was thinking about the best way to broach the subject when she appeared in the doorway, still naked. She walked toward him, with a look of such intense passion on her face that he feared she might knock him over. God, she was beautiful. Her warm mouth was on his, her arms around his neck. Before he realized what was happening, he had her lifted up and pinned against the shower wall, legs spread. He entered her quickly and easily since she was still slick and open from before. As he thrust harder than her small body should have been able to withstand, she urged him on in Vulcan. It didn't matter that he didn't understand what she was saying, it sounded dirty enough. Then, she started scratching and biting, adding pain to the pleasure. Christ, this was insane! She was like an untamed animal — he'd heard rumors about Vulcans going wild during their mating cycles. Was that what was happening to her? That was his last coherent thought as euphoria overtook him. The next thing he remembered was coming to with her in his arms, leaning against the cool tile. The scrapes and scratches on his body had started to sting, but he didn't care. Her head was buried in his chest as the water beat down on her. How was she breathing? He was going to ask if she was okay, but at that moment they heard the alert that called all senior officers to the bridge._

The mix of physical and emotional passions they unleashed together had nearly overwhelmed him. He couldn't imagine what she, a Vulcan who had never had sex before, had felt. When he kissed her on the cheek before leaving her, she had looked scared. A Vulcan looked scared. He had wanted to console her, tell her it was okay and that they'd work things out together, but there had been no time for that. And it hadn't surprised him the next day when she pretended it was only physical.

As much as he had _wanted_ to console her, tell her that it was nothing to be ashamed of or fear — he wasn't sure that that wasn't true in her case. A Vulcan might very well be terrified and deeply ashamed of what had occurred between them. So, he had decided to wait. Let her calm down and then see if she wanted to resume whatever it was between them.

Now, all these months later, they were trapped in this crazy exile, and it seemed as though she might be ready.

The next morning, Trip turned the corner into the shuttle bay, carrying his bag over his shoulder and looking forward to spending a day planet side. He hoped he'd even get to spend a little time with T'Pol alone. A temperate planet, a beautiful beach - it might be just the right setting to finally declare what most everyone on the ship knew - that they were meant for each other.

As he entered the large bay, he froze in his tracks. The Captain and T'Pol were standing just outside Shuttlepod One, close to one another. Very close. Jon was smiling at her and gazing at her.

Trip hadn't seen Archer look at her that way in a long time, since well before the Expanse. Trip suddenly remembered the they had disappeared together for those mysterious days, leaving him Captain. He also remembered when they had together discovered The Robinson Nebula. Back then, it was The Captain that shared her confidence, rather than the lowly chief engineer.

T'Pol's face was its typical Vulcan mask, but she had let the Captain enter her personal space. As far as Trip knew, he himself was the only man on the ship that T'Pol ever let enter her personal space. Jon was laughing and smiling in a way Trip hadn't seen him do since before the first Xindi attack.

He reached out and brushed T'Pol's cheek with his hand, and she didn't pull away.  
The expression on the Captain's face said everything. He didn't just want her, he needed her.

_God,_ thought Trip. _He loves her. Just as much as I do._

"Hi ya, Captain," said Trip casually, "T'Pol."

He spoke her name more sharply. She turned toward him.

"Good Morning Commander," said T'Pol.

"Ready to get going, Trip?" said Jon.

Trip nodded and they all climbed into the shuttle. The Captain decided to pilot it himself, and T'Pol seated herself next to him. Trip sat in the back, staring at them. Their manner had reverted to its usual professionalism.

What had they been talking about? Had Jon offered himself as mate for her? The Captain was limited in his choices, after all. She was probably one of the few women on the ship that could handle being married to the man in charge. She wouldn't let a personal relationship interfere with her job, being Vulcan. It made perfect sense that Jon would choose her.

Or had she approached him? The Captain and T'Pol had once been very close, and maybe she figured Jon was a more logical choice for a husband. Maybe Jon better understood what a Vulcan needed. Maybe he wouldn't confuse her or overwhelm her the way Trip had, that was almost certain. Or _maybe_, Trip told himself, he was reading too much in the moment. Maybe what he saw was just a small gesture between friends. He couldn't help but hope that was what it was.

T'Pol and the Captain were chatting about planet, just like it was any first contact mission. The local population was humanoid, with a warp capable society and apparently had a stable, democratic government. They seemed eager to make contact with a new species and were even going to throw some sort of event that night in their honor.

Trip took a deep breath. It would be good to plant two feet on solid ground. Good to meet new humanoids. Good to breathe fresh air. Whatever the situation with T'Pol, it would work itself out. He told himself that despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

***

The Gilisians were a beautiful race of humanoids, very human-like except for more luminous shimmering skin and big, round eyes. They were all very willowy too, normal for a human seemed big for them and the skinny people among the Gilisians appeared almost fragile. They seemed to have the hair and skin color diversity similar to European humans as well. Trip thought he saw blue, green, brown and purple eyes among the dignitaries that met them at the landing pad. He also saw brown, blond, red and black hair.

After a greeting ceremony, one of the diplomats offered to show them to their lodging in the palace-like building were they were staying. The ornate, glittering building reminded Trip of some cross between the lands of Oz and the Arabian Nights, with glittering spirals outside and soft, curved details inside.

Their guide reached a door.

"The lock has been set to each of your hand prints," he said, "Simply wave your hand over the sensor and the door will open. If you require anything more, please let us know. Your luggage has already been brought here."

Trip had been expecting to find a suite behind the door. Instead, they entered one large room, which was bathed in light from a series of big, expansive windows that looked over the ocean. There was also a set of doors that probably led to a balcony. The room had high ceilings, ornately woven rugs. . .and one giant bed. Off to the side, there was a big, low sofa, but it was clearly not designed for sleeping.

"The Gileseans are polyamorous," said T'Pol, "They probably assumed that we would share a bed as well as quarters."

Archer sat down on the couch, and he smiled.

"I suppose it would be presumptuous to ask for more quarters. This looks like one of their best rooms," he laughed.

"I'll take the floor," said Trip, "You could sink into this rug."

"That is illogical, Commander," replied T'Pol, "I will not require sleep tonight."

Trip sighed. He couldn't let a lady, even a Vulcan lady, stay up all night while he slept in a comfy bed.

"You take the bed, Trip" said Archer with a smile, "I'll take the couch. I get the best bed on _Enterprise_. You deserve the luxury of that bed this once. Besides, this couch is softer than my bed. And I doubt you'll be able to talk T'Pol into sleeping at this point. She's wearing her stubborn Vulcan expression."

T'Pol looked at Trip, clearly amused.

Trip waited for her eyebrow to raise, but it didn't. Her eyes sparkled, though.

Trip was going to say something, but the room's comm system activated. An English voice was inviting them to a luncheon in their honor in about an hour. After that, apparently, Trip would have some time to himself to hit the beach.

T'Pol looked down at the body-covering wetsuit she wore with some measure of satisfaction. While it was true that Vulcans wouldn't bother with swimwear if the water was warm enough, the water of Gilesia's ocean was certainly not warm enough for a Vulcan to swim in without a protective suit, despite the warmth of the midday sun. She walked carefully down a stone path toward a private cove where a steward had sent Trip earlier.

After a fruitful morning of negotiations with the local population and a pleasant luncheon with several dignitaries, Captain Archer had been invited to meet with the Prime Minister alone, something which was considered a great honor.

Trip had embraced the notion of free time and immediately headed to the beach. T'Pol thought carefully about whether or not to join him. She hadn't planned on flirting with him while in his office the previous day, but something about the way he was looking at her had triggered a reaction. Trip must have been as aware as she that the majority of the crew viewed them as a couple and expected them to formally become mates. T'Pol had done nothing to discourage such rumors despite being unsure if she wished to take the Commander as her life mate. Their one sexual encounter had been physically gratifying, but it had been emotionally troubling for her. So much, she recoiled from the idea of another sexual encounter. She feared that sexual relations could become as addictive as the trellium she has worked so hard to quit.

She was, however, certain she did not wish the Commander to take another female as a mate. Such conflicted feelings were unfair to Trip, she knew. That very morning, she had decided that she would broach the subject of their relationship with Trip. She would offer to become his mate, if he wished to have her. Phlox was even working on the possibility of her having a child with a human mate, a notion that was both intimidating and appealing. Trip had several times expressed a wish to be a father, and she was glad that if he took her as a mate, there was at least a possibility of her giving him a child.

However, since that morning, T'Pol's thoughts on the matter had changed. While waiting for Trip in the Shuttle Bay, the Captain had spoken to her very kindly. More kindly and more affectionately than he had since well before they had entered The Expanse. At first, he thought was simply inquiring about the well-being of his first officer.  
But when he had looked into her eyes, she had realized his inquires were of a personal nature. It dawned on her that he might be one of the few people unaware of her relationship with Trip, and he seemed to be indicating his willingness to become her mate.

When he had reached out an touched her, T'Pol had experienced a flicker of physical attraction. She thought the Captain might even try to kiss her, and she was grateful that Trip had interrupted them.

In the hours that had followed, she had been moderately successful at keeping her mind on the mission, but when her thoughts wandered to personal matters she found herself disquieted. She had all but settled on Trip as a mate, despite the risks posed to her emotional control. Now, she found herself tempted by the idea of Jonathan Archer. Would he overwhelm her the same way Trip had? Or would he be more even-tempered? Despite these thoughts, almost instinctively, she was seeking out Trip.

She reached the cove and saw Trip laid out on a blanket in his swimming attire. Humans were absurdly modest, and yet the garment hardly covered his body. She raised her eyebrow, finding the sight of his well-proportioned body agreeable. As familiar as she was with every centimeter of his body, she still enjoyed looking at him.

She was soon standing at the edge of his towel.

"Good Afternoon, Commander," she said clearly.

He opened one eye and looked up at her. He laughed.

"I thought Vulcans didn't wear bathing suits," he said.

"This is a wetsuit, Commander," she replied, "The ambient temperature of this water is not suitable for a Vulcan to swim in without protection."

He opened his other eye and sat up.

"Well," he said, "I can't say that that's the suit I would have picked out for you, darlin. But it still shows off your curves rather nicely."

She raised her eyebrow. There was an edge to his voice that mixed peculiarly with his usual playfulness.

"Have a seat, Commander," he said as he shifted into a cross-legged position to make room on his towel.

T'Pol looked around for a moment before sitting before him. She didn't know why she was suddenly nervous to be alone with him. She'd been more alone with him than this countless times.

They stared at each other for a long while. T'Pol found herself wishing he would take the initiative and kiss her. She knew she wouldn't be able to resist him if he did, despite their being outdoors.

"Is something going on between you and Jon?" he asked.

The question shocked her. She didn't realize he had seen her with Jon in the shuttle bay – or that there had been anything to see.

"No," she said truthfully, not elaborating on her suspicions that if the Captain had his way, the truth would be otherwise.

Trip closed his eyes, and he appeared visibly relieved. T'Pol realized that even the thought of her mating with another caused him pain, as it had caused her pain when he had flirted with Corporal Cole.

"Trip. . ." she said, feeling awkward about using his nickname in a public place.

He smiled at her and started to get to his feet.

"Let's get in the water," he said.

He reached down and held his hand out to her. She took it and he helped her up. They walked to the shoreline and slowly made their way into the water. It was cool and salty, but not so cool that the uncovered parts of her body were uncomfortable. Trip, on the other hand, appeared to shiver before his body adjusted.

"This isn't Florida, that's for sure. A little like Cape May," he said.

They swam together for awhile, and she found the unusual exercise invigorating. The Captain had often espoused the benefits of swimming, something Vulcans did not do for pleasure.

Finally, the cool water got to both of them and they headed for shore. As the water evaporated off her skin, she felt a chill. She noticed Trip shivering as well, despite the warmth of the sun.

As they stood on the beach, she stepped very close to him, knowing her higher body temperature could help warm him. Impulsively, she gathered him into her arms and pressed his body against hers. Although the embrace had a practical purpose, he sighed with pleasure and put his arms around her.

"Have I warmed you sufficiently?" she asked.

He laughed out loud. She didn't understand why her question was funny. She pulled back from him, and he grinned at her. As confused as she was by his reaction, she was pleased to see him happy.

After a moment, he brought his hands up to her face and leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, and his mouth found hers. His cool mouth was pleasant, and she tasted a bit of the salt from the water as she melted into his arms. Strangely, though his kiss was passionate, it did not seem like a prelude to sexual activity. Both her attire and their public location made such impractical. Trip seemed content to merely kiss her, which was very pleasing to her.

Suddenly, her keen Vulcan ears heard footsteps at the top of the cove. She inhaled the air, and she recognized the Captain was approaching. She quickly pulled back from Trip's embrace. She did not want Jonathan to see him embracing Trip this way, it would not be fair to hurt him in such a way.

"You okay, hon? Is somethin' wrong?" He asked as she pushed his hands from him.

"The Captain approaches," she said, turning her face away.

Trip looked up, and indeed, Jonathan Archer was now visible on the stairs that led to the cove. He was still in his uniform.

Trip looked back at her, obviously annoyed. But she didn't know if he was annoyed at Archer's arrival or her reaction to it.

"How's the water?" asked Archer.

"Cool," said Trip, his tone matching the temperature of the water "but it's swimmable."

"I didn't know Vulcan swam, T'Pol," he said.

"Most of us learn to swim, but for safety reasons more than recreation," replied T'Pol, "I took a aquatic biology course at the Academy, and I developed strong swimming skills then."

Trip looked over at her and then back at the Captain.

"How'd the meeting go?"

"Fine," said Archer, "In fact, there's going to be a kind of state dinner in our honor tonight. And I'm guessing the Gilesians know how to throw a party."

Trip didn't smile at that, instead, he started pull his clothes on over his wet bathing suit and gather up his things.

"Well," he said, "I think I'll head back to our room. I'll need a shower and maybe some rest before the big event."

He didn't look at her as he headed toward the stairs.

"Did the Prime Minister give you any interesting information on nearby systems?" she asked Archer.

"A bit. I didn't take notes. . ."

Archer continued on and she focused on the information he gave her, putting Trip out of her thoughts for the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

T'Pol looked around the the expansive banquet hall, and she inhaled the pleasant aromas of wine and incense that were so different from the sterile environment of Enterprise. The room was bigger than anything on the ship, with vaulted ceilings that had ornate decorative mosaics. The plush furniture was low to the ground, and the local aliens sat in various states of repose as they enjoyed the celebration. This species clearly did not share the Vulcan discomfort with physical contact.

A dessert course of fruit had just arrived, and the locals were feeding it to each other with slow sensuous movements.

Irrespective of gender, everyone seemed to be feeding anyone who was in proximity.  
T'Pol glanced over at Trip, and she saw one of the local alien women slide a piece into his mouth. It was obscene. She glowered at him, but he didn't notice.

Captain Archer, on the other hand, did notice. Their eyes met.

Archer smirked at her, and he turned to the woman next to him and accepted a piece of fruit. Clearly the human males were finding it easy to adapt to the alien environment.

T'Pol felt a cold hand on her arm. The female next to her was trying to get her attention and offering her some of the dessert.

T'Pol may have adapted to eating her own food with her hands, but she still was not going to accept food from the hands of a stranger.

"No, thank you. My people's customs dictate that I feed myself," she said.

""The males with you don't seem to observe the same custom," said the male next to her.

T'Pol bristled. "They are not Vulcan."

The woman next to her reached down for a bowl of fruit from the table and offered it to T'Pol. She carefully picked up a piece of the pink, grape-like fruit.

She placed the fruit on her tongue. It was mildly sweet and very fresh. Better than anything she had tasted in a long while.

"How do you like it?" asked the male next to her.

"It tastes pleasant. Very similar to a fruit that grows on the eastern continent of my homeworld."

"This fruit is sacred to our culture," said the woman, who placed a hand on T'Pol's arm.

T'Pol looked down at the woman's hand. She also noticed that the locals in attendance at the banquet had begun to kiss and caress each other. Men and women. Men and Men. Women and Women. Several groups. She turned to the male next to her and he reached over and brushed back her hair. She winced at the familiar contact. She didn't want to create a diplomatic incident with these new allies, but she struggled to repress her anxiety.

She turned her eyes to Trip and the Captain. The woman next to Trip was whispering in his ear, but he locked eyes with T'Pol.

Trip leaned over and got the Captain's attention, and he too glanced in her direction. Both wore looks of alarm. The Captain leaned over and spoke to the woman next to him.

Soon, he and Trip stood up and approached her table. The aliens on either side of her still had their hands on her. She expected Trip to be amused at her predicament; rather, he seemed mortified.

"Commander," said the Captain, "I think we should turn in early. We've got a full agenda tomorrow. I know how you need your sleep."

Trip helped her stand as she accepted the hand he extended, and she broke contact with the two suddenly disappointed-looking aliens on either side of her.

Archer came up along side of her and offered his arm. She was soon being escorted out of the banquet hall, and she felt relief wash over her.

As they left, Trip slipped his arm around her waist, and Archer put his arm around her shoulders. It was almost as if they feared she would fall over. She was not about to do anything of the kind, but she appreciated both men's protectiveness of her.

They reached the top of the stairs and headed down the long hallway. T'Pol became acutely aware of Trip's arm around her waist. Trip squeezed a little tighter, and she felt of jolt of something she didn't quite understand. Pleasure? Desire? Panic? Emotions were too new to her for her to find the right word.

She needed to calm herself, or else she might again lose control as she did the night she engaged in sexual relations with Trip. She took a deep breath and found herself focusing on the other arm around her shoulder. It was comforting, steadying and it helped her regain control.

The men didn't release her until they were safely behind the door of their suite. T'Pol felt a pang of disappointment as they let go. _Irrational_, she admonished herself.

Trip whistled. "Hell of a party, huh?"

Archer smirked. "Now we know why we only got one bed."

"Many humanoid cultures are polyamourous," replied T'Pol. "The Deobulans, for example."

"Come on, have a seat," Trip said gently. "You've had a hell of a night."

"I don't think that Denboluans have sex all at once," laughed Archer.

Trip walked over the couch and gestured to a big bowl of the pink fruit that had been served at the party. Both he and Archer helped themselves to a handful.

"You should eat something," Trip suggested. "You didn't have much at dinner."

She didn't realize he'd been paying attention.

She walked over to the table and took a piece of the pink, round fruit. She placed it on her tongue. It did taste very good, something like the peaches that Trip had once had in stasis. Those were long gone, as were most of the ship's luxuries from home.

She looked up and she saw that Trip had seated himself on the big couch. He tossed a piece of fruit up in the air and caught it in his mouth. He noticed her watching and winked at her.

T'Pol looked away quickly, as the gesture stirred incongruously intense emotions in her.

Archer grabbed another piece of the fruit and seated himself on the other end of the big couch. Trip was on the left, Archer on the right. Trip grinned and patted the space between them. There was nowhere else to sit.

"I believe I should prepare for our meeting with the great council tomorrow. Since I do not require sleep, I can spend tonight studying the information they uploaded to us."

"You don't have a tricorder," Archer pointed out.

"Or a PADD," chimed in Trip.

"It seems I'm in error," T'Pol murmured, reluctantly placing herself between Archer and Trip.

It was difficult to maintain a stiff posture in the overstuffed couch. She found herself drawn deeply into the cushions, and much closer to Trip than she intended.

Archer reached for the bowl of fruit from the side table and offered some more to T'Pol. She took another piece.

She ate it carefully, and she felt both men's eyes on her. It was curious. They had both seen her eat before, and she had long ago abandoned the Vulcan custom of not touching her food.

T'Pol shifted her weight, inadvertently sliding even closer to Trip. She was practically flush against his body.

She looked down at the floor, but she felt his blue eyes on her. T'Pol inhaled, and she recognized the slight tinge of sandalwood that mixed with Trip's human scent. She closed her eyes and began to remember.

_Just moments before, she had dropped her robe and offered herself to him._

Now, she was lying on her back as he peppered her body with kisses. She was waiting for an assault, but none came. Instead, Trip took his time. His fingers ran over her body as well, lightly touching her everywhere.

Eventually, Trip was kissing her belly. It was a pleasurable, relaxing sensation, but she her body tensed as he began to move lower.

Trip placed a kiss on her pelvic bone. His hands were gently caressing her sides.

"C'mon, baby. Relax," he said.

She looked down at him, and he was smiling at her. She felt him slip a hand under her lower back and press down on a specific neural node. The tension drained from her body.

Trip moved further down and parted her legs.

He looked up and her and then licked two of his fingers. She gasped as she felt him touch her. He appeared to be examining her carefully as his fingers carefully massaged her genitalia.

Her body reacted to the moisture and pressure of his fingers by producing wetness of its own. She moaned a little.

"Does that feel good, darlin'?" he said, "You've got to tell me what feels good and what doesn't."

She nodded at him, unable to form words to articulate what she was feeling. All she knew was that she wanted him to continue.

She felt him rub the bundle of nerves that she knew was her clitoris. His touch felt far better than her own clumsy attempts to pleasure herself. She pushed up against him.

"You want me to press harder? I don't want to hurt you."

"Harder," she whispered in a choked voice, as pleasure shot through her body. She instinctively lifted her hips off the floor to get even closer to his fingers.

But he pulled his fingers away, moving them lower and began to massage her opening. She felt a moments frustration before gasping at the feel of him slipping his fingers inside her.

The invasion felt strange, but her body reacted instinctively and seemed to open to him.

"You feel so hot," he said as he massaged the inside of her body.

She wasn't sure if he was referring to her body temperature or her sexual arousal but either way she found his words deeply gratifying.

She continued to look down at him, and she gasped in anticipation as he bent his head toward her. She began to tremble.

When she felt his tongue make contact, she shivered and gave a short scream.

This wasn't the kind of assault she was expecting, but it was an assault nonetheless. As his fingers moved in concert with his tongue she felt pressure in her body begin to build.

She was shaking all over. She had lost all control. Although she was ashamed, she did not want him to stop. She felt his free hand move upward and squeeze her small one.

As though against her will, she rubbed her hips against his mouth.

He pulled back.

"You want me to do it harder? Faster?"

"Yes," she replied.

She closed her eyes, hoping to hide the shame that was gnawing at her in the background.

She feared he would think she was a freak. Perhaps human woman only liked it gentle and soft. Perhaps he would be shocked by her needs.

Yet, her free hand moved to thread insistent fingers through his hair.

The pressure was continuing to build.

Very suddenly, her whole body spasmed and she cried out in Vulcan.

Trip continued as he was for a few more seconds, but as her body went limp - he removed his fingers from her body. She felt him plant a kiss on her inner thigh.

As though he was far away, she heard him say she was beautiful.

T'Pol opened her eyes. The memory made her weak with desire. She gasped—Jonathan Archer was staring at her. Though she still struggled with recognizing human emotions, the combination of desire and jealousy in his eyes was unmistakable. She couldn't bear the intensity of it, and she turned her eyes to Trip.

He had obviously forgotten the captain was still in the room. She needed to calm him somehow. He quivered violently under her fingers, her soothing caress against his chest somehow exacerbating the situation.

Trip's hand found hers and brought it lower, soon she was caressing his arousal through his uniform.

But her eyes met Jon's.

Amidst desire, his features betrayed uncertainty and confusion. She felt his body pull to leave.

Her fingers dug into his knee, compelling him to stay.

Her gaze traveled back to Trip, then again to Jon.

She made a decision. She wanted them both.

Her eyes still locked with Jon's, T'Pol fumbled for the zipper of Trip's uniform.  
She glanced over at him. Trip's eyes were still closed and his head thrown back. She slipped her hand inside his uniform, wanting to touch hard, bare skin.

She grasped him and stroked him firmly. She felt Jon try and move away again, but she reached her other hand around the back of his neck and held him down. She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.

Jon didn't react at first, but very soon she felt his tongue thrust into her mouth. His kiss was aggressive, hard. Different from Trip but no less arousing.

She found herself wanting to compare them. As she continued to stroke Trip, she broke the kiss. She turned around and saw Trip looking at her. She didn't find the confusion and resentment she expected. She kissed him, but this time she was the aggressor, sticking her tongue in his mouth.

Jon didn't let go of her. His hands wandered over her body as she continued to kiss Trip's inviting mouth. She loved the taste of iron in his saliva and the coolness of his breath.

Jon's hands found the zipper of her catsuit and pulled it down.

She saw Jonathan cast a look over at Trip. Trip nodded, and Jon gathered her in his arms. She was facing Trip, and he pushed the top of her catsuit from her shoulders, stopping briefly to squeeze her breasts through her grey tank before peeling that from her, too.

Trip was kissing her breast as she felt Archer pull down her pants and her underwear at the same time. She was naked in their arms.

T'Pol's hands became busy unzipping Trip's uniform, kissing him at intervals while she did so.

She felt Jon's lips on the back of her neck. It seemed as though Jon wanted to devour her.

Trip turned her around to face Jon and she helped him out of his uniform, her fingers exploring the unfamiliar planes of his chest. Soon enough, all three uniforms were a crumpled heap on the floor.

Jon covered her lips for another hard kiss. She moaned into his mouth as she felt Trip's familiar touch run down her back and lightly over her rear end, calloused fingers eventually finding their way between her legs.

Moments later, Trip's hands suddenly lifted her up. Jon's hands were at her back, and as Trip lowered her onto his body, she threw her head back as she sank into him. Trip pushed her forward a bit so he could kiss the back of her neck.

T'Pol watched as Jon began kissing her breasts first and then up her collar bone. He reached the top of her shoulder just as Trip moved to plant a kiss there. Their lips were so close. She moaned in anticipation, and she squeezed her muscles around Trip. He shot her a quick look as his lips met Jon's.

The two men kissed again, longer this time and she ran her hands down Jon's chest and lower. He was also fully aroused and her fingers grabbed hold of him. Jon broke the kiss with Trip to kiss her again.

She broke away from Jon's mouth so she could plant kisses down his neck and chest. She gently pushed him back so she could go even lower. Soon, she was on her knees on the floor. Trip had followed, barely leaving her as they switched positions.

Trip drove inside her again as she moved her mouth lower and took Jon into her mouth.  
Jon gasped loudly as she sucked on him while pushing back against Trip's movements.

This went on for a long while, until she felt Trip's hand reach around her body and start applying pressure to her nerve endings. He obviously recalled just how to touch her there.

Trip's other hand was around her waist, steadying her as he continued to thrust.

Her body tightened, dizzying quakes of pleasure ripping through her. She released Jon, fearing causing him harm if she kept him in her grasp in her unfocused state.

T'Pol's body clenched around Trip, and he shuddered as he spilled inside her. He clutched her tightly and groaned into her ear.

Jonathan's hands supported her as she went limp. Panting, Trip caressed her affectionately.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Jon looking at her. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on her mouth. She felt herself being turned within Trip's embrace.

She leaned back into Trip's chest as he put his arms around her waist. He playfully kissed her neck and shoulders. She was acutely aware of Jon staring at her, still aroused and waiting.

Trip noticed, too. "Can you go again, darlin'?" he asked.

Jon caressed the top of her thigh. "It's okay if you can't," he said.

But her desire was building again. She was intensely curious to feel what it would be like to have Jon inside her.

She nodded, shifting to extend her legs in invitation.

Jon smiled at her and knelt between her thighs. Thanks to Trip she was already well lubricated, and Jon slipped in easily and began to move, steady and rhythmic.

Trip was all gentleness as he kissed her neck and her ear, moving his tongue across the pointed tip, making her shiver.

After a long glorious while, Jon reached down and began caressing her. Trip's hand reached down as well, and he showed Jon just the right pressure points to hit. T'Pol moaned and writhed, but Trip still held firm.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

"That's it," replied Trip in her ear, "Come for Jon. You came for me. Now I want to see you come for him."

She pressed back into his reassuring heartbeat. Jonathan's strokes became faster, more erratic. She started murmuring in Vulcan.

She wrapped her legs around Jon, urging him on.

Jon shifted positions, still moving hard and fast within her. He leaned down and kissed her firmly.

Then, Jon moved from her lip's to Trip's, kissing him in much the same way. This sent her over the edge, and she screamed and collapsed into quivering euphoria.

"Good girl," whispered Trip, and she felt like her climax might go on forever. She then realized that she had had more than one. . .she didn't know how many, but definitely more than one.

T'Pol was dimly aware of Jon still pounding into her body, but soon she heard him cry out.

"Oh, God, T'Pol."

He nearly shouted the words as he spilled inside her. She studied his face as he did so, and she registered pure joy.

Jon fell forward against her and she put her arms around him, as Trip's arms remained around her.

Jon placed his head between her breasts and closed is eyes.

Trip moved from behind her, gently laying her back on the rug as he snuggled up against her. She placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, content.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that found its way into Jon's consciousness was an awareness of just how _warm_ it was.

Upon opening an eye he gave himself a sleepy smile. T'Pol was still dead asleep, spooned tightly into Trip, her arm wrapped possessively around Jon's waist and pulling him close. Her breath tickled his chest hair, sending him into a contented thrill with every exhale. Trip had a protective arm draped across the two of them, his hand resting just below T'Pol's on Jon's hip.

He remembered now: Trip had carried T'Pol's spent form back to the suite's oversized bed. Jon filled the empty fruit bowl with water, and together they gently worked to cool her with whispers and a damp cloth before tucking her under the plush comforter.

Jon wanted to say he was surprised. He _wanted_ to say it wasn't like any of them to do this kind of thing.

Evidence to the contrary was sleeping beside him.

Maybe it was the pressures of being exiled to the Expanse, separated from home by time and distance. Maybe it was the euphoria of finally walking in open spaces and breathing fresh air, after so many weeks of putting their smashed ship back together within the confines of its hull. Hell, after what he'd seen at last night's reception, he'd even be willing to believe that there was something in this planet's water that amped up everyone's libido when the sun went down.

It didn't matter. Not yet. He couldn't explain why, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, he was happy, or something close to it.

Jon reached out to trace the outline of T'Pol's ear, from point to curve. He'd admired their shape often enough, but he never thought he'd be able to touch them. She sighed deeply as his fingers trailed along her jaw and down her throat, then followed the outline of her bare shoulder. His desire slowly reawakened as she shifted slightly, rubbing against him.

After only a hint of hesitation, Jon's fingers meandered experimentally to the muscled arc of Trip's shoulder, taking in the contrasts of male and female skin beneath his touch. While different, it was no less pleasant. He thought back to the survival training in Alice Springs.

_The air in the tent was hot and oppressive, but at least it shaded them from afternoon sun and would later protect them as the temperatures dropped. Trip's breathing was erratic, and he was heading toward his bunk._

"Don't lie down, Trip," he ordered, "Sit on your gear locker. Your leg has to stay below your heart."

Trip was sweating and had taken his shirt off, though Jon didn't know if the sweat was from the heat of the desert or if the venom was starting to take effect. Archer saw the two puncture holes in Trip's pants, right on top of his thigh. Trip had been building a fire for the evening and hadn't noticed an eastern brown snake had slithered up on a rock to sun itself.

"They're sending a medic with anti-venom from the ranger's station. The guy should be here within the hour, and that should be plenty of time. But meanwhile, I've got to slow the spread of the poison."

Trip nodded, and Jon took a knife to the top of Trip's pants and exposed his thigh, which had already started to swell. He cut the whole pant leg off, pulling in down over Trip's boot. Archer didn't know if Trip's foot would swell up, but he didn't want to take any chances so he took Trip's boot off as well.

"It said in the field guide that snakebites are rare," mumbled Trip.

"Rare doesn't mean impossible, Trip," sighed Jon as he cleaned and dried the bite.

The instructions said to apply pressure bandages all the way up his leg. He took one of the elastic bandages from the med kit and applied it to the area just above the bite wound. Trip gasped.

"Did that hurt?"

"Nah," said Trip sleepily, "Just feels weird."

Archer continued to apply the bandages, thankful that the snake got Trip in the upper thigh rather than the foot. He might not have had enough bandages had the bite been lower.

Archer shook his head. Trip, who was usually game for any adventure, had protested loudly about having to do desert survival training.

"I hate the desert, Capt'n, nothing ever good happens to me in the desert. Can't we do our training in the Amazon or the Himalayas?"

Jon shook his head and made a note not to dismiss it when Trip complained about something. Trip almost never complained, so if he did, he must have had a good reason.

He looked up at his junior officer, who he also considered a good friend. Trip's eyes were closed, but he was still managing to sit upright.

"My car broke down on the way to El Paso. . .right in the middle of the desert. Oh, and my first girlfriend broke up with me on a class trip to see the Grand Canyon. . ."

Archer felt a pang of guilt. The snakebite seemed to have been a freak accident, but Trip was still his responsibility. He'd never had a man under his command injured before, and it didn't feel good. Of course, once the Enterprise was out exploring space, injuries and mishaps were bound to occur. Hopefully, the systems Starfleet had put in place would keep incidents to a minimum, but it was unrealistic to think that this would be the last time someone under his command would be injured.

Trip swooned, and he started to lower himself to the floor. Archer moved to stop him, putting his arms around his waist and lifting him back up. Trip was all muscle, and he was dead weight. Jon's hands gripped his sides to support him and Trip quivered beneath him.

Jon's heart started to beat faster, and he gazed at the younger man. Jon wasn't naive about what close proximity to a person as beautiful as Trip could do to anybody, regardless of gender or usual preference. Jon hadn't ever gone in that direction, but he'd thought about it a few times. He fleetingly wondered how Trip would react if he kissed him. He got his answer as he noticed a bulge in Trip's pants, one that corresponded to one in his own.

"Trip. . ." he said, gripping his friend tighter.

"Natalie. . ." whispered Trip to no one in particular

Archer smirked as the moment passed. Of course. Natalie was the pretty blond from the 602 club. Trip's girlfriend. Jon shook off the embarrassment. He had a friend and junior officer to care for. 

Jon was brought back to the present as Trip stirred, smiled down at T'Pol and started nibbling tenderly at her throat. T'Pol's eyes fluttered open in response, and she shifted again, craning her neck to meet Trip's mouth with her own. Jon felt himself grow harder as Trip's fingers pressed firmly into his hip. T'Pol freed her arm to caress the length of Jon's back as she and Trip continued to shower each other with kisses.

Just the way they looked at each was arousing. How he hadn't seen that they were involved? Looking back to the earliest days in The Expanse, the pair had always seemed to be together whether it be movie night or arriving for dinner in his mess. He knew they were friends, but Vulcans didn't take lovers. At least he thought they didn't. Then things got insane. He couldn't remember if he had seen them together since they'd been thrown back in time, but evidence of their love for each other was playing out before his eyes.

Jon peeled luxurious covers away from them. He needed to see them. They both had exquisite bodies. He still couldn't believe he was seeing T'Pol naked, let alone everything else. He had never dreamed T'Pol would have been so uninhibited. The way she had used her hands and her mouth on him the night before didn't seem very Vulcan, but then again he likely had Trip to thank for that. Trip had probably taught her to please a human male, just as he had instructed Jon how to touch her.

God, she was gorgeous. Ever since that night Porthos was so sick, he had occasionally imagined what T'Pol's luscious curves looked like without her catsuit. Now he knew the answers to all his questions. Her nipples were greenish, and just as perky as her magnificent breasts. Lower down, it appeared that Vulcans had little pubic hair, but there was a neat little triangle right at the juncture of her thighs. Jon looked closer, it didn't appear trimmed that way. It was probably natural.

He watched as Trip's mouth trailed lazily down her now-exposed flesh. Trip's body was also magnificent, perfectly proportioned. His pale skin contrasted with her bronze flesh, and his sharp, cut muscles contrasted with her curves. He was as aroused as Jon was, too. Jon hadn't seen another man's hard dick up close before, unless it was in a dirty vid. Trip's dick was as beautiful as the rest of him, and Jon remembered how hot it was to watch him fuck T'Pol with it.

T'Pol moved onto her back, giving Trip access to her breasts, nipples growing tighter from desire and the sudden chill. As Trip gently teased one and then the other with his tongue, T'Pol's gaze met Jon's, and she pulled his face close and drew him into a long, leisurely kiss.

Her mouth was so warm, almost feverish. Jon had touched T'Pol plenty of times, so he knew first hand that her body temperature was higher than a human woman. His tongue explored her mouth, her saliva tasting like astringent copper. He dug his fingers into her already-mussed hair, finding that small deviation from her usual tidy and impeccable appearance incredibly sexy.

T'Pol broke the kiss, throwing her head back and moaning loudly. Jon looked down and saw that Trip was tonguing her between her legs. He watched T'Pol's face contort in ecstasy. Jon kissed and nipped at her neck as his hand tweaked one of her nipples. Her arms went around him, and she began to caress and scratch his back in intervals. She moaned louder.

After a while, she started mumbling something in Vulcan. Her eyes opened, and Jon searched her face to see if he could figure out what she was saying. She looked down.

"Keep going," she choked, "Don't stop, Trip."

Jon's cock ached at her words. He knew she was about to come, and he thought he might come just from watching her. Jon grabbed his dick and held it it so he wouldn't go over the edge.

T'Pol shivered and closed her eyes. She moaned loudly before mumbling some more in her native language. Jon leaned forward and covered her mouth in a deep, hard kiss. He thrust his tongue in her mouth. She was still in the throes of her climax, but she opened her mouth to his invasion and entwined her fingers in his hair.

Jon was dimly aware of Trip moving. He turned away from T'Pol and saw Trip crawling up, dropping a kiss here and there her body. Trip wore a self-satisfied smile, and Archer experienced a twinge of jealousy. He wanted to know what a Vulcan tasted like, he wanted to make T'Pol crazy that way.

Jon looked at Trip, and the younger man winked at him. That did it. Jon knew he would have to wait to make T'Pol come, but he could still find out what she tasted like. Leaning over, he took the other man's head in his hands and thrust his tongue in his mouth. He tasted copper and something else, something like cloves, and he didn't know if it was from Trip or T'Pol. His kiss was more forceful than it had been the previous night, less tentative - and Trip responded.

So did T'Pol. She made a short, clipped noise of approval and so Jon kissed harder. Her hands trailed up the back of their heads, pulling them down to her mid-kiss. The men turned their attention to her open, waiting mouth. Three mouths ravenously nipped any tongue or lip within reach. Jon had never before experienced the dizzying chaos of so many hands and lips on him. Every sigh and moan made him want it to go on forever.

T'Pol whimpered. From the way she writhed Jon guessed her arousal has peaked again. He looked up in time to see Trip kneeing her legs apart to kneel between them. His insides tightened inward and dropped as he watched Trip angle her hips upward and sink his dick into her, like suddenly finding himself in microgravity when the deck plating depolarized unexpectedly. Jon reached down to gently stroke her clit, his fingers tingling at the moments of unavoidable contact as Trip slid slowly in and out of her.

Jon's attention was pulled from the delicious sight when he felt T'Pol's hot, firm grasp around his dick. She motioned for him to move further up the bed. He knew what she wanted as she pushed herself up. He helped by propping velvety pillows behind her, and as she reclined into them, T'Pol pulled him into her mouth. His eyes fluttered shut; it would be so easy to just let it go, right between those full, luscious lips of of hers. As badly as he wanted to know what that was like, he didn't want this to be over so soon, so he fought to retain every last shred of control. He wanted to watch Trip pushing in and out of her. He wanted to watch T'Pol's head bobbing as her mouth slid up and down his shaft. Instead he blindly caressed and kneaded at her breasts, eliciting soft sighs.

Eventually T"Pol's attentions became erratic. Jon risked a glance toward the other end of the bed. Trip was vigorously fingering her as he fucked her, eyes intently watching her reactions to his touch.

On the precipice of her orgasm, she released Jon as Trip intensified his caress. Trembling uncontrollably, she cried out. Jon bent down to kiss her as she writhed, and a moan from Trip's direction announced his own climax.

T'Pol didn't spend much time catching her breath. She met Jon's eyes as she shifted to sit up. "Lie down," she said hoarsely.

Jon switched places with her, and T'Pol resumed licking the head of his dick. Eager to return the favor, Jon slid his hand along the inside of her thigh, pressing to guide her closer. "Come here," he whispered.

Never breaking contact, T'Pol placed her knees behind his shoulders. Jon gripped her firmly by the hips, pulling until he could tease her swollen clit with his tongue. She shivered, pushed into his mouth, and he could hear Trip moving at the other end of the bed.

As Jon continued flicking lightly at hyper-sensitive nerves, he felt T'Pol's hand replace her mouth. He heard the sounds of his two lovers kissing, and T'Pol was stroking his hard cock between their bodies.

Jon tipped his head back, tongue circling the edges of the tight, feverish hole. A moan escaped his throat as he recognized the taste of Trip's body mixed with hers. The thought of it pushed him dangerously close to coming, but Jon was determined to hang on until he made T'Pol crazy with ecstasy.

It was then that he felt another hand on his dick—a larger, calloused hand. He gasped with excitement. Although he couldn't see, he loved the feel of the rough hand jerking him off while T'Pol's soft, delicate fingers stroked and tugged on his balls.

Desperate to come, Jon redoubled his efforts, sucking and licking her clit mercilessly until she pushed harder against his mouth, a plea for more for more.

Trip stroked faster, and Jon felt a tongue circling the head of his cock, the astringent tingle telling him it was T'Pol''s. Jon increased the pressure on her clit until she bucked.

"Jonathan!" she cried out, sending a renewed dampness dripping onto his tongue as she spasmed uncontrollably.

T'Pol had so rarely used his first name. To hear it now, screamed in the throes of bliss, was enough to send him over, spilling into two pairs of beautiful hands with a cry of his own as he came hard enough to darken his vision.

Gasping, T'Pol quaked with an aftershock as Jon gave her one last affectionate kiss between the legs before releasing her. He fondled the curve of her ass appreciatively as she collapsed beside him.

Trip crawled up to the top of the bed, settling in on the other side of T'Pol again. They drew in close, each exchanging kisses of gratitude and tender caresses.

Jon knew they would have to pull themselves together and meet with the planetary council soon, but he wasn't yet ready to pull himself from these warm, beautiful bodies.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sorry I'm running late," Trip said quietly as he entered the captain's private mess. Jon and T'Pol were already seated in their customary spots at either end of the table, but he hadn't missed much. The steward was leaving, having just brought each officer's plate.

The days of catfish were all but gone; Trip sat down to yet another meal of piping hot alien mystery meat. He was surprised to see that there were still peas, or at least something that looked suspiciously like peas. Fortunately he'd never been that picky.

At least nothing on his plate was particularly ugly or scary-looking. If it had been, he just wasn't sure where else to look.

Stealing an occasional glance, Trip noted that he wasn't the only one having trouble looking the others in the eye. Jon was cutting his meat into impossibly small pieces. T'Pol was picking at something _really_ interesting in her salad. No one even dared ask for the salt shaker.

The silence was killing Trip. As difficult as it was to look at the both of them without imagining them naked and doing things to each other and to him, that would've been preferable to being stuck inside his own head, stewing about it.

His food was getting cold. His stomach was twisted up. He couldn't eat. What they'd done was wrong on so many levels. Trip had always had a "thing" for T'Pol, even from the beginning. He wouldn't cop to it being "love," at least not right away, but damn--! The woman always knew just how to rattle his cage, and eventually it became hard not to think about her all the time. After their one-night stand, he was sure she'd be back for more. That was certainly where things looked like they were going last night...

_Last night!_ God, he'd fucked up big-time. Or did he? He didn't know. It was too complicated. He knew how he felt about T'Pol. He was pretty sure he knew how she felt about him. The question was, how did she feel about _Jon_? He'd seen how Jon looked at her over the years, but that had pretty much stopped once they'd gotten to the Expanse.

Or had it? Could that be why T'Pol hadn't come running back?

At least she hadn't slept with Jon before last night. Of that Trip was certain. He'd had to show Jon how to touch her, how to make her crazy. His mind took him hostage, pulled him toward the memory of the night before, how it felt to hold her and kiss her as Jon took her higher and higher, and--

Trip almost dropped his fork. His mouth dry, he gulped down some water with a shaky hand.

Jon. That was a complication he hadn't counted on. It was _beyond_ complicated. _He'd slept with his best friend! _ By all accounts, that rarely turned out well, if ever. It would have been different, maybe, if he and Jon had merely shared a woman, but...

But that wasn't what happened. And Trip knew it. And it would've been so much easier if he hadn't liked it.

What a mess.

And earlier T'Pol had been saying it had something to do with the _fruit_? It would explain a lot.

Wouldn't it?

He spared a glance at Jon ant T'Pol. Immediately he was pulled back to the sights and smells and sounds and tastes (_tastes_!) of that morning and the night before. He couldn't remember ever waking up so content. He--!

--needed time to think. He needed to _not_ think. He needed to know what Jon and T'Pol meant to each other.

He needed to figure out what Jon meant to _him._

Maybe it was just the fruit. It would be okay...if it was all just the fruit.

Right?

He needed to go.

"I need to get back to Engineering," Trip murmured, pushing himself away from the table.

T'Pol eyed him with concern. "You've barely touched your meal."

He didn't look at her. Or Jon. "Just have Chef wrap it up for me. I gotta go..."

He thought he'd breathe easier once he was out of the room. Rather, his chest constricted with doubt.

He needed to talk to T'Pol. Alone.

***

T'Pol stared at the candle on the small table before her. She should have been in her white space by this point, but the evening's dinner had unsettled her and made her unable to concentrate.

Although it was necessary, attempting to put the events of the surface behind them would not be easy. She had foolishly tried to forget her first sexual encounter with Trip, and that had been outright folly. If she had acknowledged her inability to suppress her physical desires, she might have kept those desires in check or channeled them more appropriately.

Instead, the alien fruit had unleashed her physical and emotional turmoil with disastrous results. Although regret was illogical, what had happened between herself and her two closest companions — both of whom she needed in order to function in the temporal exile in which they had all found themselves — threatened her friendships with both men and likely their friendship with each other. Her deep affection for each of them was unchanged, but she had no idea how to channel that affection.

Her life had been so confusing since entering The Expanse, especially since the incident on the _Seleya_. That was when her control began to unravel. But even before that, if she looked deep within herself, she realized that her attraction to Trip had been building since the first neuropressure session. She was an unbonded Vulcan female of marriageable age, and she had had no business agreeing to such intimate contact with any male, especially a human male. The latent attraction, coupled with their deepening friendship, had produced an alarming reaction in her body.

_T'Pol looked at the ceiling of her cabin and wished for sleep. Commander Tucker had been gone at least an hour, yet his scent remained in the room and on her body, and she had made no attempt to wash it from her skin. She inhaled the air, and a mixture of human and sandalwood soap filled her sensitive nose. Her mind wandered and painted pictures of things that she wanted to happen. She imagined his hands on her body, touching her in a more primitive manner than he had. She imagined him kissing her with his cool mouth. She found herself wishing that humans experienced blood fever, so that he would not have the strength to resist mating with her._

These thoughts caused a slow, steady ache between her legs. T'Pol had experienced such feelings in early adolescence but had learned to suppress them. The carefully learned systems of control were failing her, and instinctively her hand slipped under her silk pajamas in order to quench the ache. She had done this a few times when she was very young, before gaining control, and she mimicked the motions while imagining Tucker was still there. But try as she might, she could not reach a climax.

T'Pol was frustrated, desperate. She wouldn't be able to sleep without some kind of satisfaction. She got up from the bed and rifled through one of her storage cabinets. She found a box containing small trellium rocks. She theorized that if she administered a small amount to herself in liquid form, she might access her emotions just enough to help her reach completion.

Her hands shaking, she prepared a tiny dose, less than she thought would be necessary. Yet, as her body absorbed the medicine, she felt relaxed and even happy. She lay back down on her bunk and reached between her legs again. It wasn't long before pleasure overtook her. Not long afterwards, she drifted off to sleep, wishing that Commander Tucker shared her bed. 

T'Pol's stomach knotted in shame, remembering her terrible actions. She was permanently damaged because of them. However, she had not had an emotional outburst since she quit the drug. Her loss of control on the planet's surface could be attributed to the effects of the fruit and stress rather than neural damage. She had to believe she could still keep control.

The chime on the door rang.

"Come," she said, still staring at the candle.

She heard footsteps, and she recognized Trip's familiar scent in the air. She didn't look over at him. She couldn't. He walked around and stood before her. He did not, as his habit had been in the past, sit down.

"May I help you, Commander?"

He smirked at that, and he turned away and moved to the window. He never liked it when she called him by his rank in private, but somehow, it felt too intimate for her to use his nickname. She stood up and moved to the window. She looked out at the blur of stars, just as he did. She had lost count of how many times Trip had been in her quarters, and yet his presence seemed wrong to her. She wondered what the Captain would think of them meeting like this, alone. Would he be angry at Trip for coming to see her? Or would he be angry at her for inviting him in? And would he be jealous for her sake or for his?

She kept her eyes on the stars as he reached out and brushed her ear with his fingers, an action that gave her goosebumps. She thought of asking him if he had come for neuropressure, but she recognized the absurdity of that. He hadn't come for neuropressure.

T'Pol closed her eyes, and he pulled her into his arms. His mouth covered hers in a hard, possessive kiss, and she instinctively melted into him. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and his hands were at her waist, clutching her so tightly she feared he would leave bruises.

Just the kiss made her dizzy, and she knew he wouldn't be stopping at just a kiss. She swooned in his arms as his emotions seemed to bombard her. She sensed confusion, jealously, fear. . .love. Did he love her? She was unfamiliar with emotions, but she thought he might. It wasn't the innocent love she'd felt emanating from Sim, either. It was more dangerous, more human.

His hands efficiently unbuttoned her top and pushed the garment off her shoulders. She reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, breaking the contact between them. She looked into his blue eyes and saw a great deal of pain, some of which she had caused. She wanted to soothe him but felt powerless to do so. The only thing she could do was submit to him.

He pulled down her pants and helped her step out of them. She performed the same action with his sweats, noting how aroused he already was. She kissed his his chest and then lower. His impatient hands pushed on the top of her shoulders, and she got onto her knees.

She took his erection on her small hand and massaged him, firmly. He groaned and closed his eyes, and his hands caressed her shoulders before moving up to firmly trace her sensitive ears. She leaned over and took the tip of him into her mouth, swirling around her tongue before taking the whole thing into her mouth. She methodically used her mouth and hands on him, remembering how she had done this to Jon on the planet's surface. The thought elicited a pang of guilt. She enjoyed performing this illogically pleasurable act on Trip, but she missed Jon, too.

"That's enough," whispered Trip as he pulled on her shoulders.

She stood up and he pushed her over toward her bunk, kissing her forcefully as he did so. She fell backward, and he crawled on top of her. He wasn't slow and gentle as he had been at other times. It was as though the blood fever had overtaken him. His knee parted her legs, and she felt his hand briefly explore between her legs.

His roughness triggered a primal reaction in her, and she moaned and scratched at his back to encourage him, breaking the skin. He entered her quickly, filling her completely. His weight atop her, he nipped and bit at her neck and her ears. Rather than recoiling, her body responded to each pinch with heightened arousal, a fact which she could not keep from him.

"You like that, baby?" he whispered, "Is that what you need? You like it rough?"

His blue eyes were like ice as they locked with hers. She nodded in answer to his query and closed her eyes, hoping to block the emotional torrent that flowed from his mind.

"Say my name," he ordered.

She opened her eyes before obeying him in a whisper.

"Trip," she heard herself say as if the words were spoken by someone else.

He stared down at her as he began to thrust, hard and fast.

"That's right. _Trip_," he said.

She wrapped her legs around him, never breaking eye contact.

"But you miss him, don't you?"

She didn't respond, but he recognized her confusion. As his strokes became angrier, her body opened more fully to him.

After awhile he stopped his movements for a moment so he could take her small hand in his. He kissed and licked her fingertips before moving her hand between them and placing it between her legs. She gasped as she felt her own fingers massaging her clitoris. He forced the movements with his own hand for awhile, but then let her hand go so he could concentrate on his own movements.

Her face flushed green as she continued on her own, realizing he wasn't going to bother to bring her to climax. Rather, he expected her to do it herself as he pounded into her body.

He still held her gaze as she did as he wanted, and tears formed in her eyes. And yet, her actions were soon successful, and she shut her eyes and cried out as she spasmed around him and lost all sense of anything but her own euphoria. He kept going until he too found release, shuddering and collapsing against her.

After a few moments, he rolled off her and began to get dressed. He didn't even look in her direction. She wanted to say something, but no words came to her as shame and guilt overtook her. She realized that as much as she loved Trip, and she did love him, she missed Jon and loved him as well. Tears returned to her eyes, and she didn't even try to suppress them.

As he headed toward the door, she choked out one word.

"Trip. . ."

He turned around for a moment, and she thought him might say something. He didn't. He just left her there, alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Seeing T'Pol had accomplished nothing. Trip had gone to her, intending to find out where he stood and what Jon meant to her.

Instead, he'd done everything he could to make her feel like a dirty whore. All in the name of proving...what? That T'Pol had wanted him more than Jon? That one man should be enough for her, as long as he was that man?

That he wanted T'Pol, and not Jon?

It was all surreal. Trip wasn't sure if he owed her an apology, or if he should have given it to her harder. He didn't know what confused him more: T'Pol's climbing arousal at his rough treatment, or his own response to the memory of Jon's touch. And then there was the fact that he had allowed another man fuck the hell out of the woman he loved, and that he had enjoyed watching. How could she forgive him for that?

Upon showering and changing into fresh civvies, Trip resolved to approach things from a different angle. He'd go talk to Jon about T'Pol. He should've done that in the first place. Simple. Direct. No head games.

Given the hour, Trip knew Jon was likely to be in his quarters and still awake. He worked to steady his hand, as he pressed the door chime and waited to be admitted, just like he had done countless times before.

Inside, he found Jon sitting at his desk, pouring over reports. The captain looked up, surprised. Not nervous. Just surprised.

"Have a seat, Trip. What can I do for you?"

Trip's nerves kept him on his feet. "I don't quite...I mean, I..." He collected himself. "What the hell did we do down there?"

Jon shook his head. "I don't know."

"It was kinda weird. . ."

"It was different. . ."

Trip paused. This was ridiculous. They both were sophisticated enough to know that sometimes shit happened under the right circumstances. Sharing T'Pol had been amazing, and all that sexual energy had just spilled over them. It hadn't been terrible, what had happened between the three of them. It was just..._odd_.

"It wasn't bad, though," Trip added. "It was good."

"Oh, yeah."

"But weird."

"Yeah. Weird."

"_She's_ amazing, though."

"Yeah, incredible."

Trip thought for a moment, unsure of what to say next—unsure if he should even say anything at all. Jon was his best friend as well as his commanding officer. They were cut off from everyone and everything they knew. None of them could afford to strain any of their relationships with unnecessary awkwardness or hard feelings.

"We're good, though, right?"

"We're good, Trip."

Trip nodded, looking briefly relieved before struggling to find the words to address his next concern. "T'Pol. . .she's. . .something special."

Jon smiled. "I know."

Trip fidgeted with his ear. "Yeah, about that...uh, I don't know what's between the two of you, and it's none of my business, so. . .look, I'll just get out of the way."

Jon's brow furrowed. "I know I'm probably the last person to find out, but it looked pretty evident to me that the two of you have something going on. I'm the one who should step back."

Trip wanted to believe Jon was right, but he just couldn't deny the chemistry he'd seen between them in the corridor the day before. Besides, after the way he'd just treated her, there was no possible way she'd even _want_ him any more. "No. It's obvious she's into you. I was just a substitute for you."

"You love her," Jon countered.

"So do you," Trip said a little too quickly. It hurt to hear it come out of his own mouth, but the truth was he did love T'Pol, and he wanted her to be happy. After the way he'd just behaved, Trip had to face the fact that Jon was probably the better man for her.

Jon covered his eyes, pressing into his temples with splayed fingers. "Actually, I think it's obvious she's—"

He was interrupted by the door chime.

"Come in," he called.

Trip blanched when he saw the new visitor.

T'Pol walked in, PADD in hand, dressed and much more composed than when he'd left her. "I have the results from the analysis of the fruit," she announced without preamble.

"I should go. . ." Trip mumbled.

Archer stood, motioning for Trip to stay. "I think you're going to want to hear this, Trip." He motioned for T'Pol to continue.

T'Pol passed the PADD to Archer as she spoke. "What the people of Gilesia regard as an aphrodisiac contains a chemical compound similar to ethanol alcohol in that it reduces inhibitions. It also amplifies latent telepathic abilities and enhances tactile sensation. Higher cognitive functioning and motor control are unaffected."

"What are you saying, exactly?" Trip asked, a little afraid he already knew the answer.

"She's saying the fruit didn't make us do it," Jon said, passing the PADD back to T'Pol. "I get the telepathic part for you, but that doesn't make sense for Trip and I."

"I can only surmise that, because of our years of close association, I was able to serve as a conduit between the two of you."

Trip considered the ramifications of what T'Pol and Jon had just said. "So. . .?"

"Our inhibitions were lowered. We acted on impulses we'd ordinarily suppress." She looked from Trip to Jon before returning her gaze to the floor.

Trip's eyes narrowed. She was referring to what went on between Jon and him. "Wait a minute. You're saying. . . "

"It's illogical to deny that which you both know is true," she answered quietly.

Trip exchanged a look with Jon. There was confirmation in his eyes: the love of friendship and brotherhood had crossed the line into something else entirely, despite each man's insistence on treating it to the contrary.

_Great,_ thought Trip,_ Now she's going to offer to step aside so Jon and I can be together. That just figures._

Trip's eyes turned to T'Pol. What little relief he'd gained from getting all of this out into the open was overshadowed by the sick feeling that came with thinking about how he'd taken his insecurities out on her. He owed her one hell of an apology, and he was certain he'd never be able to make it up to her, even if he had a thousand years in the Expanse to try. Rather than find the distant coldness he'd expected in her gaze, he saw instead acceptance and forgiveness. They simply stared at each other for a moment, words inadequate to convey what they needed to communicate.

_Maybe she does love me_, he thought, a glimmer of hope returning.

"So what do we do?" Trip asked finally.

"Many cultures engage in polyamory," T'Pol said, "as we've recently been reminded. Also, I understand a minority of humans practice it as well...some for religious purposes, some for practicality, and some for...pleasure. Even Vulcans share their mates on rare occasion. It is considered a great gift for a man to share his partner with another man, who is experiencing the blood fever and has no mate."

Trip looked at T'Pol curiously. Vucan wife swapping? That sounded a little illogical. Jon looked equally puzzled.

T'Pol took a deep breath. "What I am about to tell you is considered closed knowledge among my people. We do not speak of it to outsiders and very rarely among ourselves."

Her eyes on the floor, she began to explain that Vulcans went through a mating cycle called _pon farr_, and that the male's cycle usually triggered one in his mate. If the couple didn't mate during the _pon farr,_ they would die.

_Jesus_, he thought with a tinge of sympathy for her, _no wonder she likes it rough. Pon Farr sounds downright scary._

She continued on with her explanation. A Vulcan without a mate, especially a male, could go through the cycle on his own and was in a very perilous position. So, sometimes a man with a mate would step up and offer to share.

"But due to the nature of our mating bonds," she whispered, "A Vulcan female would not enjoy sexual relations without the presence of her mate. So, her mate would be present during the sharing."

She raised her head and gazed up at Trip. Her lips were trembling.

Was this her way of saying that she didn't hate him for not minding that Jon had her—right in front of him?

"Listen," Jon said, breaking the moment with a smirk. "I'm not ashamed of what happened last night—or this morning. No regrets. And God knows I needed it. But...you two should work things out. We shouldn't talk about this—or do it—any more."

Trip sighed. T'Pol glanced over at Jon and back to him. Trip's head told him to offer T'Pol to Jon again, to try and back off. But he couldn't form the words. His eyes locked with T'Pol's. He owed her an apology, and dammit he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her understand how much he loved her. Showing her that sex about was more than just primal need. It could be the ultimate expression of love. He needed to show her that.

He looked over at Jon, who wasn't looking at either of them. Trip's heart ached for his friend. He realized that he didn't want to go. He couldn't bear causing Jon pain anymore than he could bear causing T'Pol pain.

Trip felt dizzy. The word "polyamorous" kept intruding into his thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly. Crazy as it was, T'Pol's suggestion was beginning to make sense.

_If I don't get out of here now_, thought Trip, _I don't know what's going to happen. _

Suddenly, T'Pol was at his side. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth, hot and open and wet. It certainly wasn't goodbye, he knew that. She pulled back and their eyes met. They both knew they weren't going anywhere.

Trip's attention turned to Jon, who was busily looking anywhere but at him and T'Pol. He saw disappointment and resignation on his friend's face.

After exchanging a glance with him, T'Pol disengaged from him, moving to embrace Jon and overtake his mouth in a searing kiss. Trip watched as Jon melted into her, his hands roaming over her back and kneading her backside. As Trip watched them, he felt his dick get hard. He needed to touch her, though—touch _them_--so he moved closer.

Pushing her hair aside, he leaned down, blazing a trail of kisses up her neck until he reached her ear, teasing the lobe with his teeth. She shivered. Her ears were more sensitive than a human's, that he knew.

Jon released T'Pol, sliding his arms around Trip's waist, pulling him into her. Trip heard her gasp as he pressed his erection against her. Instinctively, she began to grind against him.

"Jon," Trip said between bites of ear. "I think she needs to be naked."

"You read my mind," Jon answered with a laugh.

Trip moved his hands up and beneath her gray tank to tweak her nipples and massage her breasts, but Jon was having trouble getting the top part of her catsuit off her arms. He eventually succeeded, though, and Trip was able to pull the gray tank above her head.

"How _do_ you get dressed in the morning?" asked Jon playfully as he leaned over to kiss her exposed breasts.

Trip gently twisted T'Pol's head toward his and he kissed her. She had flushed green. "Are you blushing, baby?" he whispered. T'Pol didn't respond, but she kissed him again.

"I think this would be easier on the bed," Jon said.

Trip smiled and nodded. Together, they led her to the bed. Trip turned her around and kissed her before pressing her down on her back. Each man then took a black boot and unzipped it. They pulled the boots off in turn.

T'Pol angled her hips upward as Jon hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, grabbing handfuls of catsuit with it. In one fluid motion, he had her free of the garment.

"No , really," Trip said with a smirk, "how do you even put this thing on?"

"One limb at a time," T'Pol deadpanned, eliciting a grin from both men. After taking in the sight of her, Trip exchanged a glance with Jon. They were the luckiest bastards in the universe, and they both knew it.

T'Pol sat up, her fingers deftly unbuckling Trip's belt before tugging down his zipper. Trip struggled with the buttons on his shirt, frustrated that rushed fingers weren't cooperating. T'Pol's hand squeezing him through his Starfleet blues wasn't helping any. Finally he gave up, pulled it up over his head, and left it in a crumpled heap beside T'Pol's catsuit.

Jon approached. He'd already removed his shirt, and judging the bulge in his thin pants, Trip figured Jon was just as turned on as he was. T'Pol's small hands gripped the hem of Jon's pants and pulled them off. She then turned back to Trip. Both her and Jon made quick work of his trousers and shoes. Then, his Starfleet blues were off, too. They all crawled up on the bed together.

T'Pol was facing Trip. He pulled her into a leisurely kiss, his tongue lazily exploring her mouth and his hands running all over her luscious curves, occasionally running into Jon's hands as he did so.

T'Pol's hands clutched a bit at his chest, almost painfully.

Trip had closed his eyes momentarily, but opened them when T'Pol moaned and shifted. Jon had entered her from behind.

"You like that, darlin'?" Trip murmured into her ear. "You like feelin' Jon inside of you?"

T'Pol nodded. Jon locked eyes with Trip and smiled as he started to thrust into her.

She gestured that she wanted him to move up the bed. He got the message and did as she asked. She leaned over and soon had his dick in her hot mouth. He grunted with pleasure and closed his eyes, hoping he could keep control. She seemed determined to undo that control, but eventually her concentration seemed to wane, and she let go.

He heard Jon grunting, and their bodies slapping together. T'Pol was moaning and writhing, and Trip held her steady so Jon could continue working her with his fingers. Her moans crescendoed into cries of ecstasy. She trembled violently before going limp, a choked scream escaping her lips.

He wiggled down the bed so he could rain kisses on her face and caress her ears with is rough fingers.

Jon had pulled out of her, still clearly aroused. He was positioning her body so that Trip could easily enter her. He was also peppering kisses all over T'Pol, on her neck and back and his hands feathered caresses along her glistening skin as he moved her to just the right angle. Jon smiled at Trip, and Trip took the invitation. He slid into T'Pol, whispering in her ear how much he needed her.

Trip pulled her toward him, and then he moved her onto her back so he could thrust more easily. Their earlier, desperate encounter still fresh in his mind, he was careful not to hurt her. He moved gently and slowly.

Jon made no attempt to participate. Trip was vaguely aware of him sitting back, just watching, touching himself occasionally. Jon seemed aware that he and T'Pol needed this somehow - or maybe he was just enjoying the view. It didn't matter. Though strange, Trip was learning to enjoy being watched.

He gazed at down at T'Pol. Her eyes were closed, but Trip leaned down

"Open your eyes, baby. I need to look at you," he whispered.

She did as he asked, her brown eyes locking with his. Her body was so hot and so tight. Did she know how good she felt? Did she understand?

T'Pol's fingers pushed into his hair, bringing him down to meet her in a deep, luxurious kiss. He felt her shift beneath him as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms slid along his back, drawing him into a tight embrace. The closer she pulled him, the closer he needed to be.

Trip angled himself so that his dick was rubbing her clit, hoping he could make her come that way. He moved very deliberately, and she responded by clutching him even tighter, and he knew he'd have bruises thanks to her Vulcan strength — even though she was trying to be gentle in response to him. He was going to ask her if his motions were good to her, but she started moaning and whimpering in Vulcan--so he didn't have to ask. He knew it was just a matter of time before she came again.

As she lost more and more control, Trip concentrated harder and moved with more gentle precision. He needed to make it up to her - for what happened before - and he was going to make sure she understood how sorry he was. He wasn't worried about his own release, only hers. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt her muscles spasm around him and she screamed and pulled him close, shaking in his arms.

Trip relaxed and watched her float on her cloud of euphoria. Her face was glistening with sweat and her lips were swollen from being kissed.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

Jon reached to brush an errant hair from T'Pol's cheek. "Yes, you are."

Trip pulled out of her as she relaxed her grasp. He stretched out beside her as Jon settled to the other side, leaning in to kiss her. He was learning that there were benefits to watching as well.

After a moment, T'Pol turned her attention to Trip. She kept Jon's face close as her mouth met Trip's. It was clear what she wanted, and Trip was particularly inclined to please her.

With a smile, he turned his head. He felt T'Pol's body quiver as they met over her. Jon's kiss was hard, different from T'Pol's but weirdly comforting in its humanness. The taste of iron, as opposed to copper was familiar, despite Jon's gender. Trip was a little disappointed when Jon broke the kiss to bring his mouth down onto T'Pol's, effectively ravishing her.

T'Pol's arms went around Jon's neck and he appeared to engulf her with kisses. She was limp, and, with his arms around her, lifted her up into a seated position. Jon was on his knees in front of her, still kissing her mouth and his now free hands roamed over her breasts. Her eyes were closed.

After a few moments, Jon shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed. He moved to lift her on his lap, intending to enter her that way. Trip, who had been almost hypnotized by the sight of them, had no idea how the hell this was going to work, but he moved to assist Jon, carefully helping him lower her down onto him.

T'Pol exchanged a confused look with Trip as she gasped.

"Trust me," Jon said with a soft laugh. "You're going to like this. Just cross your legs around my waist...that's it."

Trip watched, mystified, as T'Pol complied. They clutched each other in a tight embrace, and Jon started gently rocking. T'Pol's head tipped back as she took a ragged breath. She and Jon seemed to enter an almost trance-like state as they continued to undulate in small back-and-forth motions. It amazed him that such a subtle movement could build what appeared to be such a steady, intense pressure as they both sighed and moaned softly. He was anxious to try it for himself—soon.

Trip extended tentative hands, feathering caresses along the glistening plane of her back and the curve of her hips, over Jon's hands where they pressed into her. She shivered in response, one more precious bit of her control slipping away. Inspired, he trailed cool kisses along her neck and ear. Whimpering, she released Jon with one hand, blindly searching until her fingers tangled with Trip's.

Their rocking had not changed in speed or intensity, but Trip sensed they were both close. Their breathing had taken on a strange, rhythmic pattern. Whatever Jon was doing to her, it clearly felt good--almost too good. She was nearly overwhelmed, and he gripped her hand to try and calm her.

There were no frantic, flailing movements. No guttural screams. The only sign of their release was their quiet tremors escalating into violent quakes as they struggled to breathe.

Trip felt dizzy. He was dangerously close to coming himself as he was overtaken by a wave of euphoria. Instinctively, he squeezed the end of his dick, trying desperately to prevent it. Never before had he been so turned on by merely watching something, especially something so delicate and understated.

But then, he reasoned foggily, until recently he hadn't really had occasion to watch the two people he cared about more than anything make love.

Suddenly focused, as though being returned to his own body, Trip helped to ease T'Pol's spent form to the mattress as Jon disentangled her legs.

"That was amazing," said Trip. "What the hell was that?"

"I learned that from a shaman when I was in Tibet," Jon murmured, caressing T'Pol's heaving body in an attempt to help slow her heart rate and breathing to normal levels. "I could show you sometime."

Trip grinned, giving T'Pol a gentle squeeze as he kissed her affectionately on her forehead. "I'd like that."

"Trip..." she said hoarsely. She reached shakily for his erection, drawing him near.

"I think you've had enough for one night," Trip said gently, pulling her hand up to kiss it in appreciation.

Jon motioned for him to lie back. "Take care of her," he whispered.

Trip settled back,his heart pounding in anticipation of what he thought was going to happen next. T'Pol appeared blissfully unaware and vulnerable as he gathered her into his arms, stroking the length of her body as he began whispering to her.

A thrill surged through him as he felt Jon's hand grasp him.

_Oh god_, thought Trip, as Jon started to stroke him. Trip continued to kiss and pet T'Pol's barely conscious form but waves of pleasure were overtaking him. But to his simultaneous frustration and pleasure, Jon seemed to know just when to stop or change the rhythm to keep Trip from going over the edge. Dammit, was Jon trying to drive him crazy?

T'Pol's eyes gradually opened.

_"Tonk'peh,"_ whispered T'Pol and she caressed his face.

He didn't know what that meant, but he didn't care. She looked, in her Vulcan way, so content and peaceful. Jon hit a really good spot, and Trip groaned. T'Pol looked down and watched Jon's hands for a moment. Then, she raised her eyebrow at him.

She began planting kisses down his body. Trip gasped in anticipation, knowing how hot and tingly her mouth felt on him - and how good it would feel in concert with what Jon was doing. Trip closed his eyes and let the sensations overtake him.

Soon, her mouth was around his dick, sucking and licking, while Jon's hands were on his balls. Now, for sure, he wasn't going to last long.

"T'Pol, darlin," he choked, "If you two don't stop I'm . . .I'm going to come."

Rather than stop, she and Jon seemed to work him faster and harder. It wasn't long before his balls tightened and he spilled into her mouth. His mind was cloudy, but he worried that he had done something that would repulse a Vulcan. She's a vegetarian . .

"T'Pol," he whispered, "You don't. . ."

He looked down, and he blushed as he realized she had already swallowed. Jon reached over and wiped a bit of excess off her lips and then kissed her on the cheek.

Trip leaned back and closed his eyes, awash in tranquility. T'Pol crawled up the bed to snuggle against him, and he put his arms around her, sighing.

Jon had followed and he too had his arms around her, and he placed his head on her shoulder. That was last thing Trip remembered before dozing off into a blissful sleep.

Trip awoke in the night, confused as to where he was. He knew he was on _Enterprise_, but he was in unfamiliar quarters in an unfamiliar bed. Yet, he felt a familiar, delicate arm around his waist, one that felt warm against his bare skin. It only took a few seconds for memory to return.

She had fallen asleep on her stomach, one arm around him and the other around Jon. Very carefully, he sat up against the headboard. She slept soundly, her head propped up on one of Jon's pillows. She looked serene and content, so different from when he had last been alone with her, when he had deliberately hurt her.

He knew she had forgiven him, miraculously, for treating her so coarsely. But he still felt like he owed her. . .something. He watched for a few minutes, and she eventually stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and she yawned and cricked her neck. Her eyes met his.

He was silent, searching her face for any signs of stress or shame about . . .everything.  
He saw none. She gently moved closer to him, making sure not to disturb their still sleeping lover. He gathered her into his arms.

"T'Pol," he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry about before, in your cabin. The way I treated you. . .I had no right. I don't blame you if you're still upset. . ."

Although he did need her forgiveness, he had no desire to push her away from him, mentally or physically. That notion had passed. As had the notion that she was his alone. Somehow, he was okay with that.

"You were angry," she stated, "It was understandable. Our situation is confusing."

He squeezed her a little and kissed the top of her head.

"That's no excuse. A man should never, ever treat a lady the way I treated you," he said.

She buried her face in his chest. He saw that she had a bit flushed green.

"A lady shouldn't react the way I did. But I'm not a lady in the human sense. I'm a Vulcan."

Her voice was calm as she stated this fact. She wasn't trembling or anything. She seemed in control. More in control than she had been in a long time.

"That's who you are, darlin'. I didn't fall in love with a human. I fell in love with a Vulcan, and I'd be a royal ass if held your Vulcan nature against you."

She sighed, and he gently turned her head toward him.

"In fact," he said looking into her eyes, "I kind of like it. More than kinda. And it's not like you can't enjoy it soft and gentle-like, too. This evenin' proved otherwise. Your response was amazing."

She replied in a low voice. "Are you certain? I fear you and Jonathan. . .you will both someday need a human woman. One that can express her emotions. One who . . ."

Trip grinned at that. She actually thought that he could tire of her. Although he couldn't speak for Jon, he knew he would never, ever tire of T'Pol or her Vulcan-ness.

"Honey," he said, running a hand through her hair, "I'll never tire of you. You may not realize this, but you express yourself better than most human women. The eyebrow. The way your eyes sparkle when you've made a joke. The way you put up with my jokes. I can't imagine ever loving another woman as much as I love you."

She inhaled a deep breath, and she looked over at Jon's sleeping form. Trip instinctively knew the direction of her thoughts.

"You love him," he stated simply.

"Don't you?" she replied.

"He's been my best friend for years. . .of course I love him. I just never imagined. . ."

She looked at him. Her face was so peaceful and calm and full of love, that Trip found it easy to read her thoughts. She loved him. She loved Jon. They all loved each other.

"I don't believe any of us imagined this," she said, "but that doesn't make it wrong."

Before he could answer, Trip was interrupted by sharp jolt that nearly sent the three of them toppling out of bed. "What the hell--?"

Jon bolted upright as Trip was already shoving covers down and crawling over their bodies. "What just happened?"

"We just suddenly dropped out of warp," Trip answered, pawing through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing items to their respective owners in desperate search of his own. "Damn it! Where are my pants?"

"Shit!"

Trip's head snapped back toward the bed, then followed Jon and T'Pol's stares out the window. Instead of stars, he saw a smear of a sticky-looking, translucent white substance glopped onto the surface. He was reminded of playing "Twinkie Autopsy" with Lizzie when they were kids.

_"Bridge to Captain Archer."_

Unable to tear his eyes from the window as he hurriedly dressed, Jon stabbed the comm button without looking. "Archer here."

_"Sir,"_ came the nervous voice of Lieutenant Matthews, _"we have a...situation...."_

"I can see it out the window," replied Jon. "I'll be right there."

_"Aye, sir,"_ Matthews answered. _"Uh, Captain? I've been unable to locate Commanders T'Pol and Tucker. They're not in their quarters, and...a search of Hydroponics and the Jeffries Tubes haven't turned up anything, either."_

Trip rolled his eyes despite T'Pol's perplexed look and Archer's near-amusement. He'd been well-aware of the rumors regarding his relationship with T'Pol long before there even _was_ a relationship, but they were officers; it wasn't like they were lower-decks personnel who had to retreat to these dark corners of the ship for a moment of privacy, away from roommates.

"I have a feeling I know where they are, Lieutenant. They'll be at their posts shortly. Archer out."

T'Pol raised a quizzical eyebrow as Trip zipped her uniform up. "Hydroponics and the Jeffries tubes?"

"We'll show you sometime," Jon answered. "Everyone turn around, make sure nobody's inside-out or backwards."

Satisfied they'd dressed themselves correctly despite the chaos, they exchanged a lingering gaze before leaving—part regret over the interruption of their sleepy contentment, and part tacit agreement that what happened in Jon's quarters would stay in Jon's quarters; they would be nothing but professional when they walked out that door.

Finally, Jon said, "Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

Trip had gone to engineering, and T'Pol and Jon headed from the turbolift to the bridge together. T'Pol's mind was focused on the ship's current crisis, and she sensed the same for the Captain.

They strode onto the bridge and found Hoshi, who had been on beta shift when the ship had entered the phenomena.

"Report," said Jon as he seated himself in the Captain's chair.

"We've flown into. . . goo, sir," said Hoshi, "It's knocked out the warp drive and exterior sensors. But it hasn't affected life support or any internal systems--yet."

Archer took a deep breath, and he closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them again. It occurred to T'Pol that he might be resisting an urge to laugh. She wasn't sure what was funny about this phenomena, but it seemed that Ensign Sato also was resisting laughing.

"Ensign Saunders has gotten a sample out of the airlock. It appears to be organic, so he's taken it to sickbay for analysis."

Archer nodded.

"T'Pol, you're with me. Let's go find out what this. . .goo is."

T'Pol followed Jon off the bridge and down to sickbay. She kept her mind firmly on the on ship's current crisis, and from Jon's body language, his mind was focused on the ship as well. Only briefly in the turbolift did he glance in her direction with a gleam in his eye.

As they headed toward sickbay, the MACO Amanda Cole came from there. T'Pol looked her up and down, wondering what ailment brought her to sickbay. She looked well. Amanda nodded at the superior officers.

"Captain," she said before turning to T'Pol, "Commander."

Jon looked at her as they walked into sickbay, but she said nothing. As they arrived, Phlox was bent over one of his scanning instruments.

"Good evening, Captain, T'Pol. . . ."

"What is this stuff?" asked Archer.

Phlox grinned widely.

"It's fascinating. I've never seen anything like it. It's apparently the residual material of some sort of egg sack. The sack itself must have been nearly half a light year across, but it appears that the eggs have already hatched. So, we haven't harmed the creatures."

"How big are these creatures?" asked Jon.

"Difficult to say," said Phlox, "but it's safe to assume they are. . .quite big. Even as babies. Fascinating isn't it? That organic creatures have adapted to life in the vacuum of space. It's a somewhat a shame that there seems to be no evidence of any of the creatures nearby. . . although the sensors are not working."

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back.

"How do we clean it out of our systems? Do you have any ideas?"

Phlox shook his head.

"I hadn't thought that far, but I'm sure I could develop something - however, synthesizing it in sufficient quantity might be an issue."

T'Pol thought for a moment. She turned to Jon.

"We should contact the Gileaseans. It is possible they have encountered this phenomena before, and they might have advice as to how to deal with it effectively."

Archer sighed.

"Hoshi can help me contact their chief diplomat. They did offer to help us in any way they could. They might have some advice on this. I'll do that, and meanwhile, I need you to head down to Engineering and see how Trip and his team is faring with the warp drive. Although with giant. . .space creatures in our midst, tell him to make the external senors his priority."

T'Pol nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Archer turned on his heels and exited. T'Pol found herself watching him walk as he left.

"Commander," said Phlox, "You seem to have developed a rash on your neck in a few places. . .do you know the origin?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow, she had briefly noticed the greenish bite marks that had been left on her skin, but she had not had time to treat them. She absently reached up and touched the marks, wondering which of her lovers had made them. She realized both of them probably had.

"On the Gilesean planet, I was exposed to something that resulted in the rash," she said truthfully, "It causes no pain."

Phlox did not react.

"Well, if you do think it requires treatment, let me know."

She nodded and headed to Engineering.

***

Engineering was chaotic. Trip had clearly roused his entire staff from bed to deal with the crisis. They worked quickly, monitoring systems and teams appeared to be dispersing to other locations on the ship.

"The Captain wishes to know the status of the external sensors and the warp drive," said T'Pol as she strode into Trips office. He is staring at a monitor.

"Tell 'em they're mucked up, Commander. Does Phlox have any idea what's mucking them?"

T'Pol approached Trip and looked down at his monitor screen. His colloquial expression was accurate. The external sensors and Warp Drive remained off line. Thankfully, the impulse engines appeared operational.

"Residual organic material from a large egg sac."

Trip's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"Large sounds like an understatement. What kind of creature's egg sac is half a light year long?"

T'Pol looked at him.

"A very large one, " she replied sincerely, "Do you believe it is safe to use the impulse engines?"

Trip nodded. He put a hand on the small of her back as he pointed out some data on the monitor. T'Pol felt no need to remove it, nor did she worry that one of the crew might see.

"We seemed to have been able to melt the gunk out of the impulse drive when we fired it up. But the warp nacelles are too delicate for that."

"The Captain and Ensign Sato are contacting the Gileseans to see if they have any advice."

"Any advice would be welcome," he replied, "As it stands now, only a space dock will help us get the exterior of the ship clean. The goo doesn't appear corrosive, but it could do damage over time."

Just then, Hess strode into the office. The two senior officers looked up, but Trip did not remove his hand from T'Pol's back. She stood before both of them.

"The. . .goo is physically present in the nacelles and in both the catwalks. It's not as thick as on the ship's exterior, but it's going to have to be manually cleaned off."

Trip closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's going to take days," he said.

"I can assign people to assist in the task," replied T'Pol.

"That'll help," said Trip casting a glance over at Hess, "but only to a point. I don't want any novices touching the nacelles themselves. Tell everyone to cancel their plans for Friday night, Hess."

Hess appeared visibly disappointed.

"It's too bad. I was looking forward to beating the Macos at the Team Poker tournament."

Trip laughed.

"Damn," said Trip, "I forgot about that. I guess we'll have to depend on Mal and security to do it for us."

"Yeah," replied Hess with a smirk, "I'm sure Reed will want to make sure that Hayes suffers."

There was something odd about the way Hess spoke, and T'Pol looked over at Trip to see if he noticed. If he did, his expression did not indicate it.

"The radiation in the warp nacelles has caused the goo to coagulate and get gluey. Not only is it going to require skilled hands to clean it, it's going to take hours of manual labor. No getting around it."

Trip sighed, removing his hand from her back and turning his attention to work.

"I shall alert the Captain. I will also alert you immediately if we hear from the Gileaseans."

"I'll alert you if we get any systems back online," said Trip.

She turned and exited. She returned to the bridge, only to be told that the Captain was in his Ready Room.

"Looks like most of the space docks in this area are equipped to deal with this problem. The Gileseans sent us the coordinates of a trustworthy one that's about a two hours away at Warp 1.5. If Trip can get the warp engines back on line for at least that amount of time, they shouldn't take more than a week to get everything cleaned up."

"Commander Tucker says the Warp Nacelles will require specialized repair from the engineering staff. I have offerer to reassign crew from other areas of the ship to assist in tasks that would take the engineers attention away from the nacelles."

Archer nodded.

"See if you can get an estimate of how long it will take to get the Warp Drive online, if only just to get us to the space dock."

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. Jon appeared tired, but she sensed he was relieved that a relatively easy solution to the crisis appeared at hand.

"Luckily, the creatures that lay these things like to inhabit the rings of planets. We're not likely to run into one of these things unless we enter a system where there's a nest of of them in the rings of a gas giant. Normally, they just avoid ships all together, but they've occasionally been known to swallow a ship."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

"Nobody is sure if the creatures are sentient. If they are, they don't communicate," continued Jon wearily.

T'Pol looked at the chronometer. It was approximately six in the morning, and she knew that the Captain had gotten perhaps two hours of sleep. Commander Tucker had gotten even less.

"Captain," said T'Pol, "Perhaps you should return to your cabin to rest. No doubt there will be much for you to attend to in the next few days, but currently Commander Tucker and I have things well in hand."

Jon sighed. "You know I can't go to sleep when the ship is in crisis."

"Unless you personally plan to help scrubbing airlock seals, there is little for you to do. However, that may change at any time. I recommend that you rest while you can."

"What about you?"

"After I complete the crew reassignments and assess the progress of the cleaning, I shall rest myself."

Jon sighed.

"I'll take your advice under advisement. Dismissed, Commander," he said.

His tone was formal, but he locked eyes with her in a way that was different. She recognized that although he was maintaining his professional distance, his thoughts were more personal.

She acknowledged this with a nod and left him. Thank to her Vulcan stamina, it wasn't until close to midnight that night that she found her way back to her own cabin, too exhausted to meditate.

In the hallway, headed back to her quarters, she ran into Trip in the hall. She hadn't seen him look so exhausted since the days after Azati Prime. He appeared to be headed to the mess hell.

"Commander . . .Trip," she said softly, "You appear to be in a state of exhaustion. I know you haven't slept in many hours. Will you be returning to your quarters to rest soon?"

Trip shook his head.

"Everyone is exhausted. But the sooner we get the nacelles clean, the sooner we can get the warp drive online. It's going to take another two days at this rate."

T'Pol approached him. She reached up tentatively and put a hand on his cool cheek. He closed his eyes, and he reached up and pressed his hand against hers.

"You will be more likely to make an error in your current condition. You need sleep."

He sighed, and he turned around toward his quarters. She walked him there. She sensed he wished for her to join him.

"You need sleep, not physical affection," she said, "I don't wish to distract you from rest."

He inhaled.

"Kiss me goodnight?"

She kissed him chastely on the mouth, and he pulled her into a hug, kissing her shoulder. One of the MACOs strode past, glancing briefly at the two senior officers. He looked neither surprised nor particularly interested in their embrace.

"Goodnight," she said as Trip disappeared into his quarters.

Once she returned to her own quarters, she prepared for bed slowly. Soon crawled into her bed. She inhaled and recognized the pleasant sandalwood scent she had come to associate with Trip that remained in her sheets. She missed his presence. She missed Jon's presence as well.

She sighed. Her life had changed immensely in the preceding days. Having one mate would have been complicated enough, now she had two. There was much to think about, and yet she remained content as she drifted into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Engineering was still a bustle of activity when Archer arrived with T'Pol in tow. Trip's team had spent days working round the clock in EVA suits to remove egg sac goo from the warp nacelles, while T'Pol's department had been working on possible ways to speed up the process. Jon noted that everyone looked as tired and drawn as he felt, and he promised himself he'd order extra shore leave for everyone involved the next time they reached a safe port.

Trip's last report sounded encouraging. The bulk of the crisis passed, Jon and T'Pol left the bridge in Reed's care to get some much-needed rest.

They found Trip at his console, monitoring readouts and making adjustments. "That's it...that's it...okay, shut it down there, Hess."

"We about there, Commander?" Jon asked. He saw that Trip looked even rougher than the rest of the engineering crew. It was a safe bet he'd been skipping his rest periods.

"Almost, Cap'n." Trip said. "The exhaust manifolds are finally clear, and we're about to bring the plasma injectors online."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed slightly. "When was the last time you slept, Commander?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Commander."

Jon turned his head slightly in an effort to stifle his grin. Despite the recent changes in their lives, it appeared some things would stay the same. He took comfort in that. "Why don't you come with us?" he asked once he was sure he wouldn't laugh. "You're probably about due for a break, aren't you?"

"Wish I could," Trip answered regretfully. "I'd only have to come back in twenty minutes, half-hour any way."

Archer's gaze shifted from Trip to T'Pol. He didn't miss the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. He didn't blame her; it had been days since the three of them had even sat down for a meal together, let alone anything else. Though he'd been on the bridge with T'Pol through most of what the crew had come to call the "goo situation," they remained so focused on their duties, and she may as well have been decks away like Trip. Though they were never far, Jon missed them.

"How soon before you can get away?" Jon asked quietly.

Trip shrugged apologetically. "Couple of hours."

Jon exchanged a glance with T'Pol. Neither of them wanted to leave Trip there, but it seemed there was little they could do.

Trip leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I'll catch up with you as soon as I can. You two go on ahead."

"Hurry." T'Pol said. Jon wondered if she was aware she pushed her lips together that way whenever she found the situation unsatisfactory.

"Promise," Trip assured them with a wink before turning to get back to work.

After leaving, Jon and T'Pol rode the turbolift together in silence, both too tired for small talk. Mentally, Jon was wired, but his body ached with exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he pressed at his temples, trying to ease away some of the tension from the last couple of days.

Without warning, he felt warm fingers pressing on either side of his vertebrae in the back of his neck. When they released him, he felt the pain in his head slowly evaporate.

He turned to T'Pol and smiled. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Perhaps it's time I begin instructing you in neuropressure as well."

"Sure. But I bet it's nothing like a good hot stone massage."

T'Pol arched her brow as the doors parted. Exiting the lift, they began heading their separate ways toward their respective quarters. "I have no basis for comparison."

Jon smiled enthusiastically. "Really? Come with me, then."

T'Pol hesitated, presumably wondering what she was about to get herself into.

"I promise, you'll love this," Jon urged. "Come on."

With the barest tilt of her head, T'Pol acquiesced.

* * *

They walked into his cabin, and Jon immediately felt more relaxed. Although, one thing was missing.

"Where is Porthos?" asked T'Pol.

"With Phlox," said Archer, "It's not fair to keep him cooped up here when I'm working 18 hours a day."

T'Pol crossed to one of the chairs by the window, and she tentatively sat down.

"Do you wish to retrieve him?" she asked.

Archer got two glasses and a bottle out from a cabinet.

"Nah. He's probably sound asleep. I'll get him in the morning."

He poured himself a drink.

"This is the last bottle of Andorian ale," he said, "Would you care for a glass?"

She nodded, and he poured a glass for her and brought it to her. She took the glass from him, but she didn't take a drink. She just stared at the blue liquid.

"Is it okay, T'Pol? You don't have to drink it." It occurred to him that he didn't even know if she liked Andorian ale.

In response to his words, she took a generous sip.

"Okay, so you do like it."

He noticed that her face wasn't as serene as usual. He knew she had slipped back to her quarters over the past few days for meditation, but she had mentioned that her schedule had been cut back. He wanted to reach up and take her hand, to soothe her in some way. But for some reason, even after everything they had shared recently, he was reticent.

Setting down her drink, T'Pol reached for his hand. "Jonathan, we're each experiencing a period of adjustment. As one of my mates, it is your right to touch me."

Jon inhaled. He didn't want to exercise a right over her. He wanted to make her happy.

Or content. Or whatever she wanted to feel.

"But is it okay with _you_ if I touch you? And he's not here?"

T'Pol finished her drink and set the empty glass aside. She squeezed his fingers, a small, warm gesture of reassurance. "Trip sometimes touches me when you are not present. Does that bother you?"

He realized her question wasn't rhetorical. She really wanted to know if it bothered him. Jon thought for a moment. Sometimes Trip and T'Pol were going to be together when he wasn't around, just as he was with her now. Although he hadn't specifically thought of it, it seemed silly to think that Trip would avoid showing her affection just because he wasn't there.

And he was pretty sure that Trip would feel the same.

"No," he said carefully, "It doesn't bother me."

He looked into her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her hands. Then, almost suddenly, he got up and headed to one of his cabinets.

"I promised you a hot stone massage. . .and you're going to get one."

He kept the stones in a titanium bucket that doubled as a heater. He flipped on the switch.

"It will take about five minutes for the stones to heat up probably. Maybe six or seven to account for your body temperature. . .this tradition goes back centuries on Earth, but these are Martian stones, and they retain heat better than anything on Earth.

"Now," he said, "This will work better if you take off your clothes."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow at that, and he smiled. She had a point. If she got naked, there was a strong likelihood they wouldn't get to the massage. That wouldn't be fair. He fetched his robe from a hook near the shower.

"Put this on," he said averting his eyes, "You don't need to be fully naked until we begin."

He headed into the small bathroom to grab his bottle of massage oil. When he emerged, his uniform had been replaced by his favorite pajama bottoms. T'Pol's catsuit was folded neatly on a chair and she was tying his robe, which was endearingly oversized on her small frame.

"I hope that sensitive nose of yours doesn't mind lavender, the oil is scented with that. It's supposed to help humans relax."

T'Pol stepped forward and took a deep breath above the bottle.

"It is a pleasant scent."

"Good," he replied, "Now let me get an extra sheet to put on the bed."

When that chore was done, he checked the stones. "I think we're about ready. Go ahead and lie on your stomach. We can start."

She undid the robe and returned it to the hook before crawling up onto his bed.

"Hands at your sides, just relax."

He chose two medium sized stone and placed them into the palms of her hands.

"They aren't too hot for you, are they?"

"No," she whispered.

He then took two larger stones and placed them on the arches of her feet. Her toes twitched almost imperceptibly.

Jon grinned. "I didn't know Vulcans could be ticklish."

He poured a generous amount of the oil into his hands and began to rub it into her back and shoulders before moving down to her buttocks and legs. He grabbed a big stone and began to rub her back.

Her breathing deepened, slowing to match the ebb and flow of the stone gliding against her flesh.

Deliberately, he made sure that the stone touched her all over. Back. Buttocks. Thighs. Calves. Occasionally, she winced in pain as he hit a particularly tense spot, but she never told him to stop. He eventually leaned down and kissed the small of her back, eliciting a gasp from her.

"Turn over," he said, taking the stones from her hands and feet.

He gasped himself at the sight of her. Not just her gorgeous body, but they way she stared at him expectantly just took his breath away.

His dick was already hard as a rock, but now it ached. He poured more oil in his hands and began to rub it into her breasts and stomach. He didn't bother with the stones - he needed to feel her skin beneath his fingers.

She drew a ragged breath at his touch.

His impatient hands moved lower, parting her thighs.

She closed her eyes in anticipation, and she moaned as he began to massage her between her legs.

He reached over and got another - more oblong shaped stone. He gently placed it against her swollen clit and began to rub it against her. She writhed and moaned in response. He smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning.

He walked around the bed so he could position himself between her legs. He took the hot stone and slipped it inside her body.

Her moan became a choked cry, and she placed her feet on his back. He started to move the rock in and out of her body. It was drenched by her her own wetness, not just the oil. Her thighs were trembling.

"Are you okay, T'Pol?" he whispered, looking up at her.

She stared down at him and nodded.

"Don't stop . . .please. . ." she choked.

He smiled, before bending down and tonguing firmly at her clit as he continued to work at her with the stone.

She began to frantically move in response to him. He pressed harder and moved faster, sensing the pressure mounting in her body. He kept going until she let out such a scream he worried someone might send security down.

He gently removed the rock from her body and set it aside before crawling up next to her. She was breathing steady but appeared to have passed out. He waited patiently for her eyes to open, when they did, he give her a long, slow opened mouth kiss.

Drawing Jon into her embrace, T'Pol never broke the kiss as she shifted, pulling him onto her. She wrapped a leg around his waist, pressing up against him.

He contemplated making her wait a little longer for what she wanted, but in truth he, too, was growing impatient. Grabbing her hips gently, he angled her upward, pushing in slowly, choosing to savor the sensation of her flesh sliding against his while he still had a measure of control.

He looked down into her eyes, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

He began to thrust after that, reaching between their bodies and massaging her swollen clit. He knew he didn't have much time to make her come again, but he wanted to make sure she did. Couldn't have her decide to replace him and Trip with rocks, after all.

She spasmed around him, moaning and giving a short scream. That was his undoing, and he came inside her as euphoria washed over him. He collapsed against her, vaguely aware of her breathing and heartbeat.

"Jonathan," she sighed.

Jon had to admit the sound of his name from her lips made him tingle. Though she used his proper name, it didn't come off stiff and impersonal. Rather, she spoke it with all the affection he hadn't previously dared to hope for.

He lifted his head to drop tender kisses onto T"Pol's mouth. Her caresses along his back and in his hair sent a jolt through his still-quaking body, yet he was beginning to feel serene and grounded as well. He hadn't realized he'd been adrift, nearly lost, until she and Trip had been there to anchor him.

Trip. It had been strange, maybe a little awkward at first without his presence, but Jon was grateful for this time alone with T'Pol. They each knew that collectively, the three of them had something special and important; still, the dynamics of where they fit with each other individually were uncertain, and the evening had done much to quiet many of his lingering doubts. T'Pol had made it clear that she had taken two mates, each held in equal regard, with equal responsibilities and benefits. She needed them as much as they both needed her.

The warp engine start-up had taken twice as long as it should have. The goo was insidious. Every time Trip thought his team had the problem licked, the stuff would pop up somewhere else, only to put them further behind schedule.

It was so late, he considered not joining Jon and T'Pol as he'd promised. He was reluctant to wake anyone up from their much-needed rest, though he had no particular desire to be alone.

Still, Trip had to admit that the simple message Jon had sent to his console had brought a smile to his face: _We'll leave the light on for you._ His mind made up, Trip dragged his tired and filthy body into the shower before changing and heading to Jon's quarters.

Later, his fingers hesitated over the keypad next to Jon's door, his apprehension returning. He realized it wasn't merely the wish to not wake anyone up that was holding him back. He knew it was pretty likely that Jon and T'Pol had made use of their time alone together for intimacy; if the situation were different and it was Jon who had been pulled away by duty, Trip knew it was a safe bet he and T'Pol would've done the same thing. He felt no jealousy. He was more worried about his presence being regarded as an intrusion.

Although, he reasoned, Jon wouldn't have sent the message if he wasn't welcome.

Trip took a deep breath. Bracing himself for rejection, he typed his override code into the pad.

He stepped in quickly so the door would close, keeping the bright corridor lights from waking anyone up. As promised, the cabin was dimly illuminated so Trip could find his way around without walking into anything. He found them sleeping soundly, wrapped up around each other. He almost turned to go, feeling badly about disturbing them.

Before he could move, T'Pol stirred. He put a hand up to indicate that she shouldn't get up or say anything, but she disregarded the gesture, instead gently nudging Jon and whispering news of Trip's arrival. Jon murmured something unintelligible that Trip suspected might've been "Hi," had it been a sane hour.

Trip watched as Jon and T'Pol disengaged from each other, scooting to opposite sides of the bed as Jon peeled back the covers. It was clear what they wanted.

Smiling, Trip quickly shed his tee shirt and sweats. He eagerly crawled into the space they'd created between them and soon was swallowed up by the covers and the tangle of limbs. His doubts weren't just unfounded; he'd come in to the opposite of what he feared.

He'd been missed.

Eventually they settled into a comfortable, living knot. T'Pol had her head nestled into Trip's chest; Jon was resting his on Trip's shoulder. Trip savored the warmth of sleepy flesh pressing up against him from either side.

His last thought before sliding into blissful unconsciousness: _I could definitely get used to this._


	8. Chapter 8

Days passed, and Archer was trying to arrange for _Enterprise_ to visit a nearby space dock to finish cleaning the ship's exterior. However, negotiations were slow enough to try even T'Pol's patience. But she was determined the crew make use of the delay.

While Hoshi and Archer negotiated with the space station, _Enterprise_ found an orbit around an M-class moon. The moon had no humanoid life, but it did boast a thriving ecosystem similar enough to Earth's that Archer decided an away team should go foraging on the planet.

T'Pol was a natural to lead the team, bringing Liz Cutler and several other scientists. Trip, however, was curious as to why Archer ordered him to go along. So was T'Pol.

"Because he needs to get the hell out of engineering for a little while," Jonathan told her privately, "The fresh air will do him good, and the last thing I need is for him to wind up in sickbay."

Because the shuttles were still being used to clean the ship's exterior, the away team, all five of them, beamed down in two groups laden with equipment. T'Pol had chosen a temperate forest area as the location for their survey, believing the region would be the most likely to find edible and medicinal flora. The captain gave them two and a half hours to collect samples and perform field analysis.

She inhaled the fresh, dewy air and looked up and the tall trees.

The junior members of the team soon disappeared into the forest. Commander Tucker, on the other hand, did not have a purpose on the team beyond Archer's vague request to assist her.

She felt his arms around her waist.

"I've always loved the way you look in this white outfit," he said, nibbling at her ear.

"Commander," she replied, "We have limited time to complete our tasks. Do you wish to accompany me?"

As he continued to tease her ear with his mouth, his hands slipped lower and squeezed her backside. His actions were not unpleasant, but she commanded this mission and needed to keep focused.

"Commander . . .I require your assistance. . ."

He laughed.

"Aren't I assisting you, Commander?" he replied, but he stepped back and grabbed one of the empty sample cases they had brought and gestured toward the direction she had designated for them to cover.

"After you. . ." he said.

From then on, they both kept their minds on their work, collecting a myriad of samples and organizing them in the cases. A few hours later, T'Pol was supervising the transport of the junior officers and their sample cases back to Enterprise.

Once Trip had stacked the last of the remaining cases, he and T'Pol took up their positions on either side. "T'Pol to Enterprise. Commander Tucker and I are ready for transport."

_"Acknowledged," _ Malcolm Reed said over the communicator.

T'Pol waited for the familiar tingle that preceded dematerialization, but it never came. She and Trip exchanged glances.

"Tucker to Reed. What's going on up there, Malcolm?"

Trip was answered by Lieutenant Hess instead. _"Pattern buffer's down again, Commander,"_ she said wearily. "I'm on it."

Trip winced. "How long we lookin' at, Anna?"

T'Pol noted the hesitation in Hess's voice. "An hour. Maybe two. Sorry, sir."

"Any chance you can send a shuttlepod to pick us up?" Trip asked.

_"Nearest clearing big enough to land is about a half-day's hike from your current position,"_ Hess pointed out. _"We'll get you home faster my way, sir."_

Before Trip could answer, Reed said, _"I'm sure you and commander T'Pol will make good use of your time."_

T'Pol could see Trip's tongue push into his cheek. "Thanks, Malcolm. Tucker out."

T'Pol recognized Malcolm's tone as well as the mischievous glint in Trip's eye. Surely, he wasn't going to make good on his assertion that they would "make good use of their time". There was no shelter. No privacy. Trip couldn't possibly expect her to engage in sexual relations in the outdoors. As he tenderly pulled her into his arms and began caressing her, it seemed clear to her that was his intention.

She tensed up and attempted to pull away but he didn't let her.

"There's no one here to see," Trip pointed out between kisses along her neck. "Nobody will know."

"Everyone will assume, she replied. "Besides, we should keep working. Make efficient use of our time."

He traced the point of her ear with his tongue. "I was plannin' on being very efficient with our time," he said, one of his hands squeezing her rear end.

"It's unnatural to have sexual relations out in the open," she answered with a barely suppressed shiver.

"Unnatural?" Trip laughed. He took the tricorder from her hands and set it on the crate beside them. "Come on," he said, offering her his hand. "Let's just walk."

She placed her tricorder back into her tool belt and took his hand. He led her toward the forest.

"So, how come you think sex outdoors is unnatural? Vulcans didn't always live in houses any more than humans did."

"True. My people were once quite barbaric. During the same period when they mated in the outdoors, it was acceptable for a female to castrate an unwanted suitor."

He pulled her into his embrace, laughing at that, as she knew he would. She was enveloped by his weight. It wasn't unpleasant, but she felt small - surrounded and supported by his strength.

She relaxed into him, sighing deeply.

"The first time I ever. . .you know. . . .was outside, at night. . .under the stars."

She pressed her face against his chest, flushing at this intimate revelation. She was acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the sandalwood smell of him. By now she was accustomed to the peculiar position of his heartbeat, and the rhythm soothed her. His voice resonated through her whole body, and she felt as though she was dreaming. . .beams of light cut through the trees, insects chirped and birds sang. . . she was unstable on her feet as he helped her to the ground, laying her down on a soft bed of greenery.

He put his arms around her and sighed deeply. She enjoyed the feel of his breath on her cheek. For a long time, they lay there in silence. Her mind drifted lazily. It was so pleasant, just being in his arms. She missed Jonathan, of course, but she enjoyed being alone with Trip.

Her mind wandered back to when she had been alone with Jonathan. Pleasant memories overtook her. She moaned a little, then opened her eyes to see Trip looking at her with a playful grin.

"A rock? Seriously?" he said.

T'Pol sat up, not bothering to conceal her panic. How could he have possibly known the details of her encounter with Jonathan?

Trip's eyes widened. "What just happened? I didn't imagine that!'

T'Pol didn't answer. Surely a link between her and one of her human mates wouldn't be possible without chemical intervention, and no one had eaten the Gilesian fruit once T'Pol had ascertained its effects. She wondered if Jonathan had been having similar experiences. She'd have to--

"It's the fruit, right?" Trip asked hopefully. "Whatever's in it is still in our systems?"

"Possibly," T'Pol answered. _But not very likely._

Whatever the cause, T'Pol's heart began to flutter, reminded of the intense intimacy of their first encounter as a triad.

"Strange," Trip said, "that it would stay in our systems so long. ..and flash back."

T'Pol turned to him. "But not disagreeable," she said as she covered his mouth with hers, shifting to pull him back down into the ferns.

Trip's mouth soon overtook hers, and his kiss was neither gentle nor aggressive. It was somewhere in between--deep and open. T'Pol closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment, clinging to his back and pulling him close. Images flickered through her head.

_A garden. Not on Vulcan but a warm weather garden. Tropical. She had never been to such a place, but she knew it was Earth. A breeze. Brightly colored flowers and birds. Salty air. _

Trip's hands wandered, caressing her back and shoulders and kneading her backside. His leisurely kisses quickened her pulse. Slowly he rolled her onto her back, moving against her to create gentle friction between their uniforms.

_She stood in the garden, and she wore a garment of colorful flowers. A very_ small _garment, she noted with a climbing brow._

His hand cupped her breast, his delicate squeeze causing her to squirm up against him.

_There was nothing to conceal his desire for her, his bare skin tanned a golden brown. He reached out toward her, beckoning her to come closer._

T'Pol savored the weight of his body on her, his labored breathing mingling with hers, the hardness of his arousal pressing into her.

_They stared as a snake slithered past. Trip looked down at the the top of his thigh, his fingers instinctively brushing his scar. She had not known until now the healed wound was from a snakebite._

T'Pol felt herself being rolled back to the top of him, impatient fingers fumbling for her zipper, tugging it down.

_T'Pol reached into the leaves beside her, pulling free a beautiful purple cainito—what Trip had called a "star apple," a fruit he had developed an affinity for while diving in Jamaica. Though he'd never mentioned this before, the truth of this knowledge was irrefutable._

She extended her hand, offering him the fruit. He covered her hand with his, wrapped the other around her wrist, and bit hungrily. Juice ran through her fingers and into his.

Trip began fumbling with the zipper of her catsuit, and she was too weak with desire to protest. Although she was still uncomfortable with the notion of mating outside, the reverent yet primal tone of his fantasy had been seductive.

He opened the front of her suit, baring her breasts to the cool forest air. He looked up at her, grinning, as he caressed her taut nipples.

"Not wearing anything underneath?"

"This garment is adequately insulated," she replied, feeling a slight burn in her cheeks.

Trip laughed and kissed her briefly before shimmying down her body and taking one of her boots in this hand. He unfastened it and pulled it off her foot, tossing it aside. The other one soon followed.

"Stand up," he urged softly.

She was barefoot. His request was not logical.

Trip reached out his hand, and she sat up and took it. He pulled her to her feet, the bed of moss providing cushion her soles. Trip then zipped her suit all the way down and pushed the skintight garment off her shoulders and pulled it down over her hips.

"I love the way you look in this baby, but it's a pain to get you out of," he laughed, as he helped her step out of each leg.

T'Pol stood tall, struggling against her instincts to cover herself against the taboo sensation of the breeze caressing her exposed body. She then realized that while she was completely naked, he remained fully clothed. She moved to undress him, but he stopped her--instead gathering her into his arms and kissing her.

Trip pressed his forehead against hers, making her look directly into his smiling blue eyes. "Just trust me, okay?"

She nodded, breathless. Trip lifted two of his big, calloused fingers to her lips, and she sucked on them slowly. He then lowered them between her legs and began stroking her. The fabric of his uniform felt rough as she writhed against him, intensifying the thrill of her vulnerability. His fingers slid deeper and deeper into her, and she buried her face in his chest, muffling her cries.

His free hand found the small of her back and pressed her even closer to him. She was on the precipice of a climax when he suddenly removed his fingers. She gasped in frustration, and he turned her around to face a nearby tree.

"Put your hands against the trunk and lean over," he said softly.

She obeyed his request, and he gently spread her legs wider, his fingers still wet from being inside her.

He let go for a moment, and she heard him unzipping his uniform. She turned to look, but he reached up and gently prevented her head from turning.

"Don't look at me baby, just feel it. Let go," he said.

She trained her eyes on the bark of the tree, which was cutting into her hands, as she felt him rub his erection between her legs. She moaned and closed her eyes.

"That's right," he whispered as he slipped inside her. "I wanna hear you."

His uniform scraped against her bare skin as he began to thrust. His fingers found her clit and began to rub. With every push, the bark dug deeper and deeper into her palms. The pain enhanced her exhilaration, as it had the last time she had been alone with Trip. She was once again behaving shamefully, this time rutting in the open like an animal. Breathing in the the forest air, she looked up to see rays of sun cutting through the tops of the trees. She felt primitive—_alive!_

Ecstasy overtook her, and her primal screams echoed through the woods, followed shortly by his. Her hands were cut and bleeding as they both dropped to their knees. She pressed back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes, feeling more nervous for him . . .and Jon, than for herself. Trip had unleashed something from within her psyche, and she wasn't sure if she could contain it.


	9. Chapter 9

Trip, T'Pol and Jon walked together to the shuttle bay. Hoshi was waiting for them, a bag slung over over shoulder. Jon was still apprehensive about so many senior officers leaving the ship, but he needed to barter for the services of the spacedock in person, with Hoshi's help, and Trip need to prepare the spacedock for the ship's arrival. But it was one thing for the senior officers to leave the ship in a protected orbit while visiting the planet below, quite another to leave a crippled, isolated _Enterprise_ for four days.

"Good afternoon Commanders, Captain," said Hoshi

Jon nodded and smiled, before turning to T'Pol.

"I still don't feel right about leaving," said Jon, "Not with the ship's systems in disarray."

T'Pol had her hands behind her back, and she raised an eyebrow.

"The manager of the station was clear. He wished payment negotiations to continue with you directly," she replied, "Do you doubt I can command _Enterprise_ in your absence?"

Her eyes sparkled. Early in their exile, she had lectured him about trusting her to do her job. More than ever, it was essential that he be willing to let her do so. Jon sighed. She was right, as usual.

"We'll see you in four days," said Trip, locking eyes with her.

"Good luck," she said nodded at him and Jon before looking at Hoshi, "Good luck, Ensign."

With that, T'Pol turned on her heel and left the shuttle bay. Jon smiled to himself. The stiff Vulcan woman he'd known in the first days of their mission would never have wished anyone good luck.

"I'll pilot," said Jon to Trip, "You can take over next shift."

Hoshi, who had seated herself in the back, leaned forward.

"I can take a shift, too, sirs. I need to log more hours," she said.

Jon nodded. Hoshi was hardly the same skittish young woman who feared space travel. She was learning to fly shuttles and could aim a phase pistol as well as anyone.

"Did you manage to say goodbye to Kemper?" asked Trip.

Jon looked over at Hoshi. Kemper was a MACO, nice guy. But Jon didn't know that Hoshi was seeing him. Jon glanced at Trip. Captains were always the last people to know anything.

Jon didn't turn around and look at Hoshi, who was suddenly rattling on about how much she fun she and Kemper had together. Jon wondered if she knew anything about. . .if the crew had started to figure out the situation between the ship's senior officers. Trip had mentioned something once about the whole ship thinking there was more going on between T'Pol and him than there had been. But did anyone suspect the truth about what was currently going on?

Jon sighed. He didn't like keeping secrets from his crew, but the mate-sharing thing was probably best keep quiet for the time being.

"So," said Hoshi, "How's Commander T'Pol been? She seems like she's adjusting to the new order."

Her question was pointedly directed at Trip, which was both a relief to Jon and a slight irritation.

Trip shot a quick smile at Jon and turned around to face Hoshi.

"She's doing fine," said Trip with a hint of tease in his voice.

"So I hear," said Hoshi, "I also heard you two got to spend some time together on the moon survey. . .I'm sure that was fun."

Trip grinned at that, but he didn't reply and demurely changed the subject. Jon, who kept his focus on flying, wasn't jealous that Trip had gotten some time with T'Pol. . .he just wished he'd been there. Or something like that. Jon had gotten the impression that things between Trip and T'Pol could get intense--almost too intense--when he wasn't there. He'd noticed that T'Pol had grass stains on her uniform and cut hands when they returned from the surface of the moon. Worse, T'Pol had looked emotional . .almost overwhelmed. Trip had looked the same. Jon was concerned they might do each other harm, without meaning to. It had been days since he and T'Pol had been together...longer still since the three of them had really been together. Jon missed them, and he was beginning to feel the old stress return to his body.

Jon kept silent as the two chatted amiably about the ship's activities and the plans for reconfiguring crew quarters. Two crew members were already pregnant and three weddings were planned. _Enterprise_ was becoming a generational ship. All the more reason to keep his mind on getting her a good overhaul at the station.

The first day of negotiations had been long and hard, but finally Archer had offered to provide the space station with an assortment of seeds and seedlings from the ship's garden on top of the last of the trellium and some warp plasma. It seemed a good bargain, and this station, though austere, didn't appear as though it was going to snatch any crew in the night.

The station's quarters were not much bigger or well-equipped than the interior of the shuttle. Low lighting, small corridors designed for humanoids that did not grow very tall and cuisine that made Jon wish he had brought Chef along.

He had managed to secure two tiny rooms on the station, allowing Hoshi her own space. Jon escorted her to her door.

"You were a great help, as always," said Jon.

"Thanks, Captain," she replied wearily, with a yawn, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ensign," said Jon as he headed into his room.

Trip, as expected, had not arrived from the engineering section yet. Jon showered, wrapped a towel around himself and proceeded to contact T'Pol and check in with the ship. Her messages were emphatic. All was well.

"So how are _you_?" Jon asked with a smile. It was good to see her, even on the room's small screen. "Did you have Phlox look at your hands?"

T'Pol pressed her lips together. She was begrudgingly discussing the matter _"They are nearly healed, no small thanks to the doctor and his osmotic eel."_

Jon grimaced. He wouldn't push the issue further, though it was difficult to set aside his feelings as a concerned lover. "Get some sleep, Commander," he ordered softly.

_"Yes, sir,"_ she replied.

Sleep nearly eluded T'Pol as meditation had. She had been too preoccupied with her encounter with Trip on the moon's surface to focus on the flame and find her white space. The raw feelings Trip had awakened in her were at once exhilarating and confusing. Finally, after tossing and turning for what her mental clock told her was an hour and 43 minutes, she drifted into a fitful sleep...

_40 Eridani A hung high over her clan's ceremonial grounds. The entire village had turned out for today's spectacle. The barbaric offworlders circled each other in the arena, eliciting cheers and groans whenever one struck a blow._

__

Initially, the elders had been outraged that T'Pol had chosen the offworlders as her champions. She had rejected every suitable Vulcan male that had been chosen for her. She was not about to become a trophy bride or a peace offering to a rival clan. The last suitor the elders sent had become a eunuch by her own blade.

The offworlders, however, had looked upon her with a dangerous mixture of affection and lust. Regardless of the victor, she knew she would be respected and, more importantly, satisfied. Gradually her kinsmen had taken a great interest in her perverse fascination with the human men, and enthusiastically received news of T'Pol's impending marriage.

Crowds soon gathered, and they wasted no time making wagers. They only wanted to see blood spill. It was of no consequence that it would be red instead of green.

_The combatants also seemed to develop a lust for the fight. T'Pol had decreed there would be no weapons in the arena, so they fought hand-to-hand as their naked flesh burned in the desert sun. Their bruised and bloodied bodies were caked with sand and dirt from rolling around when they'd wrestled each other to the ground, drops of sweat forking trails of clean through the grime, accentuating the peaks and valleys of firm, well-developed muscles. Counter to normal physiological response to combat, both men had developed erections, she noted, as arousal stirred in her own loins._

Jon had begun to pace the tiny room. He had done all the work he had brought with him, and then he invented some more. He should have been exhausted. He should have been asleep by now. Instead, he felt restless, and he wanted to Trip to show up.

Eventually, Trip did arrive, covered in grease and dirt. Apparently, he had done more than consult the station's team on how to prepare for Enterprise. In typical Tucker fashion, he had gotten his hands - and the rest of himself dirty as well.

"I'm hitting the shower," said Trip, sleepily.

Jon gave him a brief nod as he passed by, and soon Jon was listening to the water gush behind the bathroom door.

_Though their chests heaved with exertion against the thin atmosphere and high gravity, both continued to fight valiantly for her hand—and their lives. Occasionally they each would catch her watchful eye, and she knew that both men wanted nothing more than to please her, both in the arena and in her bedding. After nearly an hour, no clear winner was emerging. She had perhaps chosen her champions a little too well, their fit bodies and fierce determination never failing them._

_T'Pol would take matters into her own hands._ "Kroikah!"

_All became still as she stepped forward into the arena. Only the clan matriarch was permitted to halt the combat, and even then, only upon the death of one of the participants. No one made a move to stop her. Given T'Pol's controversial choice of prospective mates, it seemed that all from the highest elder to the lowest slave had tacitly agreed that there were no rules governing this particular situation. Eventually the stunned silence passed, and the crowd hurled jeers her way for interrupting the action._

_As T'Pol drew near, she became more acutely aware of the smell of their humanness. What disgusted her kinsmen, she found impossible to resist. The aromas of combat and sexual need intensified their alienness while further igniting her hunger._

Jon's heart had started to beat faster as Trip emerged from the shower, also clad only in a towel, started rummaging through his bag.

Trip dropped his towel and proceeded to nonchalantly pull on his sweats. Jon looked him up and down. Jon trained his eyes on the faint scar atop Trip's thigh, and then higher. Trip had obviously taken a cold shower.

_The men watched her carefully. Though she could sense their continued bravery, she saw the uncertainty in their eyes. She looked from one to the other. The light-haired one's lip was split and bleeding. The dark one's eye was swelling shut. Both faces were smeared with dirt and perspiration._

_Her blood thundered through her veins. Every fiber in her body_ wanted. _She knew what she must do, and she would eviscerate anyone who would stop her._

_Finally, she spoke, loud enough to be heard over the crowd._ "Nam-tor veh yut goh kup-kim-tor nash-kal-if-fee " _**There is only one way to settle this challenge.**_

_Neither man knew Vulcan, but they understood her perfectly: they would perform for her, then they would take her._

"I spoke to T'Pol. She's fine. Her hands are better."

"That's good," Trip answered, stowing his bag.

"So. . .things got a little intense between you two?"

"What are you implying, Jon?" Trip turned, setting his jaw.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm just worried. . about both of you."

"You think I'd hurt her on purpose?" Trip snapped.

"No," Jon said, taking a deep breath. They'd both been getting so irritable so quickly. "I just..."

Eyes flaring, Trip suddenly moved forward and grabbed Jon roughly by the shoulders. For a moment, Jon thought for sure Trip was going to throw a punch.

Instead, Trip leaned up and covered Jon's mouth with his, thrusting with his tongue.

Jon instinctively opened his mouth, and he put his arms around Trip and clutched at his muscled back.

Trip pulled them both down onto the bunk - forcing Jon to drop his towel in the process.

_Cheers and taunts erupted from the onlookers as the human males turned, drawing each other into a deep kiss. Sex was the only thing her people found as entertaining as violence—the more depraved, the better, for both. T'Pol smiled as she circled them, taking hedonistic pleasure in watching her champions' erections rub together as they pulled each other closer, chest hair tangling, desperately clutching and groping. There was nothing loving or soft or tender about this; it was all savage, decadent need, as their combat had been._

__

She reached, placing a hand on each man's tight, bare posterior, every squeeze and caress encouraging them further. The blond one dropped to his knees, taking the full length of the other into his mouth, driving the onlookers wild. When one Vulcan clan conquered their rivals, the male victors often forced the losing males to service them orally as a reminder of their superiority and dominance.

There was no force here. There was only their desire to please—her, as well as each other. Her blood combusted as the sucking and smacking sounds coming from one elicited moans of ecstasy from the other. Unhooking a single clasp, her thin robe slid off her shoulders and was carried off by the hot breeze, leaving her in nothing but sandals and ceremonial jewels. Her kinsmen were about to discover just how deeply her perverse affinity for alien flesh ran.

_The dark-haired male turned slightly, leaning down to kiss her openly, her heart quickening at the human taste of him. The other male disengaged, adjusting to nestle his face between her legs. Deafened and blinded by the white heat of her desires, she was no longer aware of the cheering and self-gratification occurring around them. Fumbling, she eventually found the contact points on her champions'--her husbands'!--faces. They shuddered and gasped as her mind penetrated theirs. Tipping her head back, she screamed into the sun._ "Pon farr!"

Jon was rock hard at this point and pressed down against Trip, feeling the other man's arousal through the material of his sweats. Trip pushed Jon back onto the small bunk and began raining kisses onto his chest.

Jon's whole body quivered as Trip moved lower. . .and then lower still.

Jon gasped at the idea of what Trip was going to do. All things considered, they had done very little to each other . . .

The thought was interrupted as Trip's cool, human mouth closed around Jon's cock.

Jon had never had a man go down on him before, and he was pretty sure Trip had never gone down on a man--but there was something comforting about the humanness of the way Trip felt. Archer sighed as Trip threw himself into the task at hand.

Jon wove his big fingers into Trip's hair, pulling in a way that he knew had to be painful but he couldn't stop himself.

Trip's mouth felt so good. . .so good that part of Jon just wanted to let go completely. . .spill into his friend's mouth. But he couldn't do that. . . not yet. He needed to return the favor.

Jon sat up, extending his reach to tap Trip on the back of the shoulder. Never stopping, Trip looked up at him questioningly.

"Turn around," Jon said hoarsely.

Trip got the message, and he obeyed immediately. Jon pulled down Trip's sweats, causing his erection to spring free. Jon's heart beat faster as Trip swung his legs around to the top of the bed. Jon lifted his head and took Trip's hard cock into his own mouth.

The unfamiliar taste and feel of him wasn't unpleasant, and Jon began to mimic the motions that he had experienced countless times.

Trip obviously appreciated the work because he let go of Jon's dick and let out a long moan.

That spurred Jon on, and he continued to suck and lick until he sensed Trip couldn't take anymore. He let go and gestured that he wanted Trip to turn around.

Trip shifted, leaning in for a kiss. Jon sighed, the alien but not unpleasant feel of the weight of another man's body on him quickening his heart.

The two men's tongues danced around each other, and Jon blissfully felt Trip's hand on his cock. Moaning, he closed his fingers around Trip's and began to stroke.

The feeling, combined with Trip's still working hand, caused Jon to come. Delirous though he was, Jon had no intention of letting go of Trip until he too found release. He kept stroking, his head pressed against Trip's shoulder, until he heard the younger man groan. Soon, the two men were collapsed in one another's arms.

Finally, Trip broke the silence with a laugh. "You think she'll be mad?" he asked.

"Mad that she wasn't here to see this," replied Jon.

"I think we're gonna have some explaining to do," Trip smirked.

"We'll just have to make it up to her. . .somehow," sighed Jon playfully, as he leaned over and kissed Trip gently on the mouth.

The two men kissed for awhile before getting themselves ready for bed. Neither needed to declare the other bunk unnecessary as they squeezed themselves into one bunk and drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

T'Pol gasped, sitting up as she was shaken violently awake. The covers were all twisted up, and her silky pajamas were clinging to her, drenched with perspiration. Her pelvic muscles were still contracting in orgasm.

Catching her breath, she ran her hands through sweat-matted hair. The vividness of the dream still cloyed at her, though she was finally able to set herself enough apart from it to assure herself she was not, in fact, entering the Blood Fever. It disturbed her that her mind had chosen a representation of the brutal times that predated Surak, however she had to admit that the public setting had contributed to the thrill of watching Trip and Jonathan perform sexual acts on each other.

She could only surmise that her lack of meditation had contributed to her inability to put her recent outdoor experience with Trip into perspective, and her lack of opportunity to enjoy private time with both of them together before they left.

Still, something about their situation was becoming evident. She would need to speak with them when they returned.

Looking at the chronometer, she decided it was still too early to dress and report for duty. She would never hear the end of it if Trip or Jonathan suspected she hadn't been taking care of herself and sleeping. She resolved to clean up, change into fresh sleepwear, and let herself into Jonathan's quarters. If she couldn't be with her mates, she would try to soothe herself with the scents they left behind on Jonathan's sheets.


	10. Chapter 10

T'Pol was waiting at the top of the stairs as Jonathan, Trip, and Hoshi climbed out of the shuttlepod. She had been working in engineering for nearly twenty-four hours, and her appearance reflected this. However, she knew her lovers had seen her in worse disarray.

Without preamble, she informed Archer that _Enterprise_ had set out on the course and speed he'd ordered as soon as the shuttle had arrived. She had no reason to bring him this information personally, a fact that Ensign Sato was well aware of as she smiled, glancing back and forth from her to Trip.

Hoshi's awareness of her relationship with Trip did not bother T'Pol, and she felt compelled to speak both Jonathan and Trip immediately due to the nature of the dreams she had had while they were away. She was still very inexperienced at dreaming, and she suspected that her vision was somehow connected to her lovers. Also, given what she'd apparently seen in Trip's mind on the moon's surface, she needed to know if she likewise shared this kind of connection with Jonathan. In the unlikely event the answer was yes, the situation, while unprecedented, would be extremely gratifying.

And if the answer was no...

"Thanks, Commander," Archer said warmly, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder.

T'Pol centered herself, redirecting her attention. It wasn't logical to worry about that which she could not control. She would face it at the appropriate time, when she had all the relevant facts.

"It's good to be home." Jonathan's eyes sparkled as he took in the sight of her.

"Sure is," Trip answered, clearing the last step to stand beside Archer. "I thought we'd never get back."

T'Pol stiffened, tipping her head almost imperceptibly as she eyed them critically. There were vague alterations in their body language. She stepped closer, gently inhaling. Their scents...

After brief consideration, her brow shot up, the only betrayal of her astonishment. She recovered quickly, relaxing into satisfaction and acceptance. "I see you journey was..._productive_."

T'Pol saw Hoshi glance from her to Trip. Trip's tongue press into the inside of his cheek as he looked away bashfully before wiping a bit of smudge of her cheek with his thumb.

"Looks to me like you've been productive yourself," he said.

Hoshi's smile widened. She didn't seem to notice Archer's self-conscious blush. "It's been a long ride," she said, trying to diplomatically excuse herself. "I think I'm going to hit the mess for a snack before turning in for the night." She turned to Archer. "Care to join me, Captain?"

Jonathan's blush deepened, and he absently reached a hand up and fixed a stray wisp of T'Pol's hair. "Thanks, Ensign, but I think I'll catch up with you later."

"Oh..." Hoshi's brow furrowed, her puzzled gaze shifting between the three of them.

T'Pol noted that Jonathan's gaze never left her own, while Trip was looking anywhere but at Hoshi, amused discomfort overtaking his features. If T'Pol was not mistaken, he was trying not to laugh.

Hoshi's eyes widened suddenly as her cheeks reddened. "Oh. Good night, then, Captain...Commanders..." As she stifled a smile, she made a hasty exit.

Once the ensign was gone, T'Pol stepped closer, lowering her voice. "When did you begin having sexual relations in my absence?"

"She just cuts right to the chase, doesn't she?" Trip muttered, self-consciously fidgeting with his ear.

Jonathan's jaw dropped. "How...?"

She drew them in closer, unable to resist their combined scent. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, savoring. "I haven't taken my nasal suppressant for some time."

"Of course," Jonathan said wryly.

T'Pol's scientific curiosity took over as they moved toward the turbolift. This was indeed an interesting development. While she was aware of a certain amount of repressed attraction between the two men, she had estimated it would take much longer than this for them to act upon it without her presence to facilitate matters. "Fascinating. I assume your first encounter was on the space station..."

Archer cleared his throat and laughed uncomfortably. Trip raised his hands defensively.

T'Pol stopped walking, an unfortunate realization occurring to her. "Are you ashamed of...?"

Trip and Jonathan stopped, turning to face her. "No, no," Jon said hastily. "Nothing like that."

"It's just that some things...between guys..." Trip shrugged helplessly at Jon, desperately searching for the right words as they began walking again.

Jonathan smirked. "Well, it can get kind of..."

"Weird," Trip finally finished as they stepped into the turbolift. "Darlin', I know you want the kiss-and-tell, but we just got home."

The doors swished shut. Both men pulled her into an embrace, three foreheads pressed together.

T'Pol felt Jonathan's hand run down her back, finally resting on her posterior with a light squeeze. "Don't worry. We'll be sure to fill you in on all the details..." he said softly.

Trip's hand slid into her hair. "...later," he added.

T'Pol's breath quickened as they drew closer, each man capturing one side of her mouth. She opened to them, allowing herself to be nipped and caressed by two at once. She closed her eyes.

It was tempting to let go, let them take her over in the moment, but as the lift slowed, they pulled away from each other a respectable distance before the doors opened, lest there was someone in the corridor. Soon, they found themselves at Jon's door. As Jonathan keyed in his code T'Pol looked from one man to the other. "If you would prefer to be alone..."

The door slid open. Trip grabbed her hand, pulling her in behind Jon. "Get in here," he drawled playfully.

The cabin was dim, lit only by a small reading light and the stars out the window. The air was cool, and T'Pol inhaled. The stewards had cleaned the room well while the Captain was away and there was no trace of Porthos's smell, only the familiar cleaning antiseptic.

She intended to ask further about their encounter on the station, and words nearly reached her lips but one of her loves covered her her mouth with his before she could speak. She immediately recognized Jon's taste, and she felt Trip's familiar hand on her posterior.

_She looked around to find herself in a dark and dingy nightclub of sorts. Neon signs advertising various alcoholic beverages and "GIRLS" adorned the walls. A stage with three poles dominated the room, and a short catwalk that extended into the sea of small tables that dotted the club floor. Scantily clad women twirled from the poles, and T'Pol arched her brow at the one on the catwalk as she removed the top half of a lacy undergarment that seemed to serve no protective or supportive function._

_Bemused, she noted her hair now reached below her shoulders. She looked down to find herself in stiletto heels and a revealing, silky slip dress that barely covered her posterior. T'Pol suspected she'd discover similarly flimsy undergarments beneath. _

T'Pol's heart quickened as Jonathan's hands smoothed over her body, stopping at her zipper. There was a hesitation. Through Jonathan's lips, she could feel the slight shake of his head.

Breaking the kiss, she shifted her gaze from Jonathan to Trip, who grinned mischievously. With quiet amusement, they backed away from her slightly. She understood. She would undress herself. They would watch.

_She quickly spotted those she sought among a larger group of men, dressed in civilian attire at a table at the end of the catwalk. It appeared to be some sort of celebration, though neither of her targets were the guest of honor. All but the two of them were focused on the dancer before them; Trip and Jonathan could only look at her._

_T'Pol sauntered up to them, their eyes never leaving her. She reached, grabbed each one by loosened neckties and gently led them to a side room. Partitions separated booths of two cushioned seats, each facing each other. Releasing them, she motioned for the men to sit. _

Although her Vulcan sight didn't serve her well in the low light, she could make out amusement in both men's eyes.

"Baby, as great as you look in those skintight Vulcan uniforms of yours, they are a pain in the ass to get you out of," said Trip.

She furrowed her brow slightly at this, glancing at her backside.

"Your removal of my uniform has never caused me undue pain," she replied.

Then, the human colloquialism dawned on her, and she blushed. She had heard Trip use that expression before.

". . .but if you are concerned, I shall instead wear loose fitting Vulcan robes ."

Both men put their hands up in mock protest.

"That won't be necessary, Commander," said John.

"Then what is necessary, Jonathan?"

"I think you need to strip out of that uniform," he said, gesturing at her clothes.

She reached up and pulled her front zipper the rest of the way down. After that, she deftly wiggled out of the top of her catsuit, tossing it aside.

She leaned down and removed each of her boots, setting them aside as well.

_She explained the rules. Pay first. Fifteen minutes. No touching. Hands down at their sides, on gripping the bars below heir seats at all times._

__

They settled in. T'Pol took a position between them, undulating and writhing to the pulsing music. She carefully watched their reactions as she rotated her hips and shoulders only millimeters from their laps and faces. Facing Jonathan, she could see his arms tense as he gripped his hand rails tighter. Her dress was gone with a slow, fluid motion, revealing a sheer black bra and thong. As chilly air met exposed skin, she straddled his legs, grinding dangerously close to the arousal pressing up against his pants, leaving Trip to watch the bare curve of her swaying backside.

_.After a moment, she turned her attention to Trip, repeating the movements she'd performed for Jonathan. He smiled as her barely-covered breasts narrowly missed brushing up against him, her precise movements calculated to come dangerously close to making contact, teasing him into new heights of excruciating pleasure._

The images in her head were. . .peculiar. A puzzling human ritual she didn't understand. . .but she nevertheless pushed down her pants very slowly, acutely aware of Jonathan's gaze.

She was about to remove her top, but she stopped when her hands found the hem. She instead stepped toward Jonathan and pushed him back so he was seated on the bed.

She cast a glance at Trip, who was smiling but also looked puzzled. She turned back to Jon and began mimicking the ritual from Jonathan's vision.

After time had passed, T'Pol finally pulled her gray tank over her head to reveal her nude breasts. She sensed this was a key part of the ritual.

After tossing aside the garment, T'Pol began to slowly and deliberately undulate her body. The slowness of the moments felt strange, but Jonathan appeared almost hypnotized. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trip pull up a chair behind her. As in Jonathan's vision, he would be behind her and she would perform for both of them.

_Both men caught their breath as she pivoted, arched her back, and unhooked her bra. A low moan escaped from Jonathan. Trip swallowed hard. With a flourish she freed herself from it, and began teasing them by dragging it across their bodies or sliding it behind their necks to bring their heads closer to her bare breasts as she continued to sway and grind. She could sense that both were having an exceedingly harder time resisting the urge to touch her. The hunger in each man's eyes was unmistakable, even to one less experienced with others' emotions._

She knew Jonathan ached to touch her body, but some kind of protocol held him back. Touching her as she did this was forbidden to them.

She moved very close to Jonathan but was careful not to even brush his body. She also glanced over her shoulder and noticed Trip's eyes were trained on her posterior and its slow movements.

She continued for a few moments longer before stepping back from Jonathan. She turned gracefully around so that Trip had a full view of her nude breasts and Jonathan's gaze could fall on her back and buttocks.

She leaned over and put her hands on either side of Trip's chair, still careful not to make contact with his body. The chair supported her weight so she could deepen her pose further toward Trip and back toward Jonathan.

She moved her head lower, reveling in the scent of Trip's body and the sight of his arousal through his pants. She wanted to reach out and touch him - and Jonathan - relieve their tension. But instinctively she understood they needed and wanted the deprivation. The notion was exhilarating.

_Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, T'Pol straightened, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her thong. She locked her gaze with each for a moment, turning finally to face Trip. With painful precision, she began sliding the thong down past her hips, gradually folding herself in half as she pushed them toward her knees and beyond until the triangle of transparent fabric and elastic were draped around her ankles, giving Jonathan a prolonged and unobstructed view of the most intimate parts of her body._

__

Slowly she straightened, pushing hands through her hair, watching as Trip smiled slightly, his eyes meandering lovingly over her. With a coquettish look over her shoulder, she saw Jonathan doing the same as she stepped carefully out of her discarded panties.

_Their fifteen minutes were up. She had no intention of stopping. _

She stepped back from Trip and positioned herself between her two lovers. Her hands crept up to the hem of her shorts and she began to pull them off her body and down her legs. As she did so she leaned forward so that Jonathan would have a full view of her newly revealed backside.

She kicked the grey shorts to the side and stood up tall. She looked over her shoulder to see Jon grinning at her.

T'Pol looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrow at Jon. This game was . . .intriguing. It had possibilities.

T'Pol thought Trip was about to kiss her.

But instead, he reached around and smacked her lightly on the behind. He grinned at what must have been the obvious surprise on her face.

"Jon," he said, "It's getting a little dirty in here. I think it's time we clean up our act."

Trip headed toward the shower and turned on the water. As he did so, Jonathan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed he shoulder.

"Best welcome home ever," he said.

T'Pol heard the amusement in his voice. Moments earlier, he had been suffering intense sexual deprivation and now he was happy. She again doubted she'd ever completely understand her human mates, but as long as they seemed content, perhaps she didn't need to.

Meanwhile, Trip had begun to strip off his own uniform. Clearly, he did not intend for her to shower alone. She felt her heart beat faster in her side at the sight of Trip's revealed body and the feel of Jonathan's lips on her skin. She had missed them.

T'Pol stepped carefully toward the shower. By the time she reached Trip, he was naked. She turned around to face Jonathan and her hands found the zipper of his uniform. She began to help him out of it, but eventually he grew impatient and pushed her underneath the warm water.

The water soothed her skin, but the grime from engineering that covered her body required more than water to be removed.

Trip pumped some soap in his hand and stepped under the water with her. Soon, his hands were creating a lather all over her. Jon had soon removed the rest of his uniform and joined them in the shower, helping Trip cleanse her body. Their hands caressed and rubbed her all over. T'Pol inhaled the scent of the soap and closed her eyes, hoping she would be able to stay on her feet. But both her lovers seemed to sense her instability and made certain she remained standing.

Finally, the men began to rinse her body and their own bodies of the soap. Trip turned her to face Jonathan and soon his mouth was covering hers and his tongue exploring her mouth. Trip's lips peppered kisses on her neck and shoulders.

Trips fingers slipped between her thighs and began to pleasure her. She moaned into Jon's mouth.

Jonathan's hands fluttered their way up her back as Trip continued his kisses. Jon gently but insistently pushed on her shoulders. He looked down at his own arousal and smiled at her.

T'Pol craned her neck back and briefly kissed Trip before moving down onto her knees. The water sprayed her back and the tile was cool against her knees. She grasped Jon's erection, moving her hand up and down for a moment before taking him into her mouth.

She sucked and licked, intent on giving Jonathan the most intense pleasure she could, but she was distracted by Trip, who had gotten on his knees and was caressing her clitoris from behind.

She inhaled a sharp breath around Jonathan and proceeded to use all her powers of concentration to help her continue to pleasure Jon while Trip pleasured her. First, Trip spent time inserting his fingers in her body, and when she was all wet and quivering there, he removed his fingers and entered her body.

She heard Jon moan and he leaned back against the tile.

T'Pol reached up and used her hand to help Jon reach his climax. She felt his scrotum tighten and his semen soon spurted into her mouth.

As she swallowed, she let go of Jonathan. His pleasure had become her own and she climaxed around Trip without any help from him. He must have felt it because he groaned with pleasure and thrust swiftly into her body. T'Pol grasped the back of Jon's legs and pressed her forehead on his knees.

She felt Trip shudder, moan and collapse against her. She slid to the floor and a panting Trip put his arms around her. Jon joined them both, and they were a mass of limbs still under the cleansing spray of the water.

T'Pol stayed huddled between them, shivering not from the cold but from the aftershocks of pleasure still quaking through her body. She felt secure with their arms and legs tangled around her, the kisses and caresses playing on her skin bringing her to a place of contentment she had not previously believed possible. T'Pol let out a blissful sigh, her body totally relaxed into her lovers' arms.

First Trip's mouth found hers, then Jonathan's, and the three of them exchanged an unhurried kiss, tender and affectionate, but not lacking in passion. The warm water was still beating down on all three of them, T'Pol barely noticing that her hair and body were soaking wet.

Dimly aware that Jonathan was moving, she was only conscious of a distant stab of disappointment as he shut the water off, its rhythmic patter on her back having been another constant. With the water no longer heating her body, she shivered, from the cold this time.

Jonathan stood slowly, holding out his hands to her as he straightened. She looked up, taking them in her own more out of instinct than comprehension. She felt Trip's hands on either side of her hips, steadying her as Jonathan pulled her up.

Her knees felt weak, and she feared they would not support her weight, but soon she was in Jonathan's arms, with Trip's hands still supporting her. She put her arms around Jonathan's neck and let herself collapse into him. Trip let go for just a moment, and she soon felt one of Jonathan's big towels against her skin.

As he toweled her off, Trip peppered kisses along her body. Meanwhile, Jonathan pulled her closer to his body so he could fully support her. Her knees did buckle, but she did not fall but simply became further enveloped by Jonathan's embrace.

Quite suddenly Jonathan scooped her into his arms, supporting the back of her legs with one hand and her neck with the other. He carried her to the bed, laying her gently down.

She felt dizzy and sleepy, and so she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of four hands caressing her body. On one side of her, she felt Jonathan's lips on her breast and then lower, while Trip kissed her neck and and ear.

Soon Trip's mouth found hers, gently slipping his tongue inside. As Trip kissed her, Jonathan spread her legs. Her heart began to beat faster as she felt his cool breath between her legs. She gasped into Trip's mouth as she felt Jonathan's tongue pressing against her clitoris and two of his fingers slip inside her.

Trip continued to kiss her, but his hands found her shoulders and gripped them firmly to prevent her from moving away from his kiss. Jonathan's free hand had grip on her thigh to keep her from writhing against his ministrations. They were forcing her to endure the double stimulation.

Knowing there was no escape, she relaxed as the pressure in her body began to build. It wouldn't be long before she climaxed again, that she knew.

But just as she was about to go over the edge, Jonathan stopped. He lifted his head and carefully pulled his fingers from her body.

In involuntary moan of disappointment escaped her mouth, and she opened her eyes. Jonathan was crawling up her body as Trip placed a kiss on her cheek. Both wore expressions of mischief, and clearly were working in concert with one another. She sighed and closed her eyes again, realizing that Jon was going to allow Trip to bring her to climax.

Jon began caressing her face with his hands, and she put her head on his shoulder. Trip soon began to use his tongue on her, and she gasped with pleasure. She needed release.

But just as it was about to happen, Trip pulled back and began to crawl up her body. She moaned in frustration, and he moved her own hand between her legs but Trip's iron grip prevented her from touching herself.

Trip laughed and shared a look with Jon. She realized they were playing at some sort of deprivation game with her.

"What do you want, T'Pol?" whispered Jon in her ear.

She flushed green.

"You can ask us for anything, baby," said Trip, "but you've gotta tell us."

Her heart beat even faster and she trembled. She inhaled a deep, slow breath - taking in the cool air of the cabin and the scents of both her lovers. They wished her to speak her desires aloud - something they knew went against her nature.

But so much of what had happened between them went against her nature. She could do this.

"I wish . . .I wish to reach orgasm," she said, looking first at Jon and then at Trip.

"See," said Jonathan, "That wasn't so hard."

"I think we can help you out," said Trip, "but just how to you want us to make you come darlin?"

A pang of irritation shot through her mind. This game could easily cease being pleasurable.

"Just finish me," she hissed desperately, closing her eyes. "I don't care how."

By the time she stopped speaking, Trip's big fingers had already slipped between her legs. Soon, Jonathan's hand joined in, and her climax came swift and hard. Her ears rang and her vision darkened as she cried out. In the distance, she could hear the men's soft, joyous laughter and feel their loving caresses. She had pleased them as much as they had pleased her.

* * *

She must have drifted off to sleep. When her eyes slowly opened, she became aware of two sets of eyes on her. To her left, Jonathan lay on his back, and Trip lay on his stomach to her right.

"Hey," said Trip, brushing a stray hair from her face.

"Are you okay?" asked Jonathan.

She stretched and propped herself up on the bed pillows. "I'm more than 'okay,'" she replied, wondering if they would notice the subtle flush in her cheeks, "I am quite content."

As she considered whether there would ever be a time when they didn't make her blush, Trip moved closer to her.

"So," he said, "Where did you learn how to lap dance?"

T'Pol turned to Jonathan, and she caught _him_ blushing.

"I thought you taught her," he said to Trip before turning to her, "but. . .I was thinking about the time we went to Lt. Commander Remington's bachelor party at that place on Market Street and then you started to. . it was like you were reading my thoughts."

T'Pol sat up higher. The vision had, as she suspected, been Jonathan's. That meant she could read both their thoughts. Somehow, she had formed a bond with both men. . .and perhaps-just perhaps-through her, they had formed a bond with each other.

T'Pol was both relieved at gratified at this intriguing realization. When she had thought a bond had formed with Trip, she feared this would exclude Jonathan from them. That fear was now gone; she truly had two mates.

And now she needed to tell them.

She grabbed each man's hand and held them tightly. They had not consented this bond forming. Had she realized it was a possibility, she would have warned them both.

"I am about to explain something to you . . .that Vulcans don't speak of to outsiders," she said, "You have heard me refer to Vulcan mating bonds. . ."

She told them about the bond she had formed with both of them. She explained in detail how she read Trip's mind on the away mission, describing his garden fantasy. She then explained how she had earlier been reading Jonathan's mind and had been able to fulfill his fantasy.

T'Pol feared they would be angry or frightened, but Trip merely grinned at Jon.

"Really? A lap dance? Of all the things you could have had her do. . .you choose a lap dance?"

Jon grinned back, and his eyes sparkled. "I don't recall you being dragged kicking and screaming anywhere that night."

T'Pol sighed, grateful that the two men's affection for each other appeared undamaged by whatever had gone on between them on the station. She needed to explain that as well. "While you were away, I had my own vision. . . one of primitive Vulcan rituals. . .I suspect that it may have affected your behavior toward one another. . ."

Jon and Trip exchanged looks.

"Cheering crowds? And a fight?" asked Trip.

"You saw this?" asked T'Pol.

"Vaguely. . .just in flashes that I thought were daydreams."

"They were. . .my daydreams," she replied. She turned to Jonathan. "What about you?"

"I didn't see anything. . .but I felt this intensity I didn't understand. There was tension between us. I just thought it was because you weren't around. . ."

"It was because I wasn't there," she replied softly, "I believe the bond was asserting itself. I sensed the tension between you and created a fantasy around it that in turn. . .made the tension more intense. . .the bond did not create the attraction between you, but it did encourage it."

T'Pol looked down, unable to meet their gazes. Because of her, they had been forced to face emotions toward one another that would have otherwise stayed buried. She didn't know if they would resent her for it.

Jon leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

"It's gonna be fine, darlin" said Trip, "We'll deal with all of this. . .and this bond, as it comes."

She nodded and settled back into their arms, glad of their optimism. She still didn't know exactly how the bond would affect all of them, but she did trust them.

For now that had to be enough.


	11. Chapter 11

Trip's eyes opened gradually, and he found himself gazing at the now-familiar bulkhead of Jon's quarters. He stretched, but just barely, not wanting to disturb anyone who still slept. His foot brushed cool, human skin, and he realized T'Pol was no longer in bed.

Trip gently sat up against the headboard, glancing toward the still sleeping Jon and noticing that the shower was running. _Figures a Vulcan would rise at 5:30am on her day off_, he thought, glancing at the chronometer. In fact, they all had the day off, as the ship was being cleaned by the space dock. As a policy, no one from the ship being serviced was to be present during the work. Instead, Jon, Trip and the crew would inspect the work upon completion. Until then, only critical systems were in operation and everyone was supposed to just relax.

Jon stirred, slowly moving closer to Trip. Trip watched him slowly awaken, yawning and stretching.

"Mornin'", whispered Trip.

"Where's T'Pol?" mumbled Jon.

"Showering," replied Trip as Jon sat up.

He leaned back against the headboard, just as Trip had, and they were touching, but just barely.

"Doesn't she realize she doesn't have anywhere to go?" yawned Jon.

Without thinking, Trip let his head fall toward Jon's shoulder. The gesture felt natural, and Trip was soon using Jon as a pillow. Jon's arm snaked up and around Trip, but before embracing him, Jon glanced at him. He wanted permission, which Trip gave with an almost imperceptible nod.

Trip sunk deeper into Jon and sighed. It was still strange, being this close to him, especially when T'Pol wasn't around. But strange didn't mean bad or unnatural. In fact, part of the strangeness was how natural this had become.

"You okay?" asked Jon.

Trip smiled just a little, nodding. Jon shifted to move even closer, but he winced.

"What's the matter?" asked Trip.

"There's a knot in my back," Jon replied, moving awkwardly to try and rub the pain away. "Maybe T'Pol can try some of the Vulcan pressure stuff when she gets out of the shower."

Trip inhaled."Neuropressure. She's shown me how to do that...I think I can help," he said.

Jon responded by giving him a funny look, but he was soon onto his belly."It's the middle vertebrae," he said, skepticism evident in his voice.

Trip shifted to a more convenient position. As he did so, he instructed Jon in the proper breathing before starting to apply pressure to Jon's neural nodes.

Jon moaned in pain, but his body relaxed under Trip's fingers. Trip decided to move on to the surrounding areas.

"Those daydreams you talked about last night—"Jon began, his voice muffled from being face-down. "What did you see?"

The directness of the question caught Trip somewhat off-guard, though he supposed he should've figured Jon would ask eventually. "Not a lot, really. Not much I could make sense of any way." He thought for a moment. "Lots of people...T'Pol was there. We were outside. I think we were on Vulcan."

"Were _we..._together?"

After an awkward hesitation, Trip answered. "Yeah." He was vaguely uncomfortable with the discussion—not because he'd apparently tapped into T'Pol's fantasies and deepest desires, but because the conversation threatened to turn to why he'd seen them and Jon hadn't. Trip certainly didn't have any answers, and he wasn't convinced T'Pol would, either.

Jon seemed to digest this before asking, "Is that why you kissed me?"

Trip's heart quickened, and he struggled to steady hands that shook with confusion and desire. "I...I don't know."

Trip continued his work, and when Jon shifted a little. He recognized that neuropressure had the same arousing effect on Jon that it had had on him all those months with T'Pol.

But Jon didn't need to hide his state, and instead moaned with pleasure as Trip's fingers moved deeper. He decided he would continue on to work some of the nodes in Jon's legs.

"If you move your fingers three millimeters lower, it will stimulate his pleasure centers in a most gratifying way," said T'Pol.

With a start, Trip turned to see T'Pol eyeing him from the bathroom door, Jon's oversized robe diminishing the usual impact of her arched brow. He hadn't even heard the sound of the water stopping. He blushed. "You never showed me that," he said, but he did as he was told and his actions elicited a long, deep growl from Jon.

"Maybe you need to come on over and continue the treatments," said Trip, "since you obviously know more about this than me."

T'Pol folded her arms. "On the contrary, you have become quite skilled."

As if to punctuate that, Jon moaned, responding to what Trip knew was a mixture of pleasure and pain. Trip stared at T'Pol in amazement.

T'Pol approached them, and Trip's heart started to beat. He felt himself get aroused, though he wasn't sure if it was because of her or him—or both. It didn't matter as T'Pol gently took his hands and repositioned them on Jon's body.

Trip gazed into her eyes and pressed hard, like she had taught him before, and Jon responded.

The sound of Jon's pleasure filled his ears, and he leaned forward to kiss T'Pol. But she had stepped back, and she nodded towards Jon. It was clear what she wanted.

Trip inhaled a quick breath, and he did his best not to tremble. It was one thing, what had happened when he and Jon were alone, but T'Pol being in the room made it different. He wanted to make her happy. He was going to make her happy, but he wasn't sure if he was scared or exhilarated by the idea.

_A little of bot_h, he thought.

As though T'Pol understood his thoughts, she locked eyes with him. He saw a mixture of serenity and desire there that filled him joy. How could he not do what she wanted?

Another moan from Jon broke the moment. Trip smiled and moved his hands up to Jon's shoulders. He moved to flip Jon over, which Jon did willingly.

Jon grinned up at Trip, and the younger man leaned down and kissed him lovingly on the mouth. Jon opened his mouth to Trip's invading tongue. As the kiss continued, Trip closed his eyes and felt Jon's arms around his back.

Jon pulled Trip down on top of him, and Trip was aware of every point where their bodies touched. He ran his own hands up into Jon's hair. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that T'Pol was watching—and enjoying.

Jon groaned, and Trip recognized the agonized tone of it. In answer, he slipped his hand down and grabbed the other man's dick and began to stroke. Jon gasped and pulled him tighter.

Trip felt Jon's heart beating. He continued to stroke, hard and fast. He broke their kiss.

He looked at Jon, who was panting, with eyes closed. He wanted to make him come, give him the relief that he needed.

Jon suddenly reached out and grabbed Trip's wrist, stopping the motion.

"Not yet," he said, without opening his eyes.

Trip obeyed, letting Jon go. He looked up and saw T'Pol watching them with a mixture of Vulcan fascination and intense passion. Trip was torn. Part of him wanted to get up and pull T'Pol into the mix; part of him wanted to continue the performance.

But it was Jon who made the decision for him.

Jon grabbed Trip's shoulders and flipped him onto his back. Trip sighed and closed his eyes as Jon began to plant kisses down his chest...and lower. His best friend...his captain was about to go down on him-again. And this time, the woman he loved...his wife..._their_ wife...was watching. And enjoying. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that. He sensed it through the connection...the connection that was between the three of them.

Trip inhaled sharply as the heat of Jon's mouth closed over him,

It just wasn't supposed to be this _right_, he thought as a shiver went down his spine. He gripped the sheets next to him, for fear if he touched Jon he would hurt him accidentally.

Trip lost all coherent thought and just gave into the pleasure. Jon took his time, licking and sucking and teasing until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Trip lost control and spilled into his mouth.

Through the dizziness and euphoria, Trip felt Jon's head against his chest. Trip put his arms around him and sighed deeply.

Trip looked down to meet Jon's eyes.

Catching his breath, he affectionately brushed away an errant strand of Jon's hair. "Turn over," he murmured hoarsely.

Smiling in anticipation, Jon rolled onto his back.

Trip climbed on top of him, his mouth descending in a deep and unhurried kiss.

Trip was getting used to it now, the taste and feel of Jon, the heat of T'Pol's gaze. He still couldn't quite look up to meet her eyes, but he pressed his tongue in Jon's mouth and explored slowly.

Jon shifted beneath him, pressing up, searching for friction against Trip's legs. Only then did Trip break the kiss to slide down his body.

He peppered kisses down Jon's taut, hard chest—so different from T'Pol's soft curves. But still beautiful.

Trip still found the sensation strange, but he sucked and licked and caressed in a way that he knew would feel good. Jon answered in a series of gasps and moans.

Trip wanted to give Jon the same pleasure Jon had given him, and when Jon finally let go into his mouth, he was relieved, despite the strangeness.

Trip crawled up and placed his head on Jon's chest. Jon was still miles away, but Trip looked up and into T'Pol's eyes.

_Show's over_, thought Trip and he extended his hand toward her.

She slowly stepped forward and took his hand. He gently pulled her toward the bed. Soon, Trip had Jon in one arm and T'Pol in the other. Trip sat up a little and began to undo the sash of Jon's robe. He helped her wiggle out of it, so that she was just as naked as he and Jon were. Jon shifted and leaned over and kissed T'Pol, eventually pulled her over Trip so she was nested between her two mates.

Trip nibbled at her throat as Jon teased her ear with his tongue. Her breathing became labored with desire. "How'd we do, baby?" he asked, his breathless voice muffled against her skin. "Did you like that?"

Trip thought he sensed just a little more heat from her skin, and she nodded.

"Your enthusiasm for one another...exceeded my expectations," she whispered.

Trip smirked, recognizing Vulcan for "that turned me on". Jon was tonguing her sensitive ear, and Trip grabbed one of her warm hands and moved it between her legs.

"Show us," whispered Trip.

T'Pol caught his eye, and he knew that she understood that this wouldn't be like before. That it would be beautiful. Meanwhile, Jon was gazing down at T'Pol in anticipation and fascination.

T'Pol's hand started to move, and both her lovers began to caress her body.

Jon said nothing, but he leaned over and kissed T'Pol deeply on the mouth before pulling back so he could look into her eyes.

"Don't close your eyes," he finally whispered to her.

Trip's breath caught in his throat. She looked so vulnerable and open, just lying there touching herself while they watched.

He hands moved faster and faster, and her body trembled. Trip's fingers lightly moved over her body, but he was mesmerized by the sight her. Jon seemed equally captivated, watching her face and occasionally glancing down at her hands.

Finally, her body spasmed and she cried out her orgasm.

Jon and Trip wrapped their arms around her still-quaking body.

Both men showered her face with kisses as she struggled to catch her breath.

Trip watched as Jon relaxed against her, still amazed at what he saw. Trip grinned and he leaned across T'Pol's body and kissed him. Jon kissed him back, smiling. Then, Trip turned toward T'Pol and kissed her before moving back against the pillows.

"Beautiful," whispered Trip in her ear, and he felt her shiver.

"What shall we do with the rest of our day off?" asked Jon as he closed his eyes.

But T'Pol had fallen asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

T'Pol looked up at the glass panels of the ceiling, which served to bring natural light into the trading outpost. It was an imposing, cavernous building of simple design, with stores and eateries along the sides of each of its two floors and smaller stalls along the center. The space was immaculate, despite being crowded with many species, and all the patrons appeared well-dressed.

Humanoid security officers patrolled on foot and on hoverboards. Most of the trading outposts _Enterprise_ had thus far encountered were primitive at best, but this establishment rivaled anything T'Pol had ever encountered in her travels. In fact, _Enterprise_ had had to apply for permission to even enter the planet's orbit due to the selectivity of the merchants.

The Captain had been so impressed, he had arranged for each member of the crew to have some time at the outpost and had obtained currency for their use. T'Pol had initially balked at the expense, given that the outpost dealt primarily in luxuries rather than necessities.

"It'll be good for morale," the Captain had replied, "And I expect you to get something nice for yourself. Something not at all practical or logical."

The Captain had been wise in his decision. The crew members she had observed at the outpost had all appeared enthusiastic as they moved from store to store. The shopping provided welcome entertainment.

T'Pol fingered the credit stick in her pocket. She herself had always enjoyed shopping for aesthetically pleasing items, and some of her favorite clothes were showing their wear. She decided to use her credits to purchase new clothes.

She entered one of the shops, which dealt in material for clothing. Adjacent to that establishment was a another shop, where seamstresses would tailor the fabric into whatever styles the patron wished. _Enterprise_ had already transferred patterns from Earth and Vulcan to the facility.

T'Pol searched the store, eventually choosing several fabrics in various purples, blues and a deep green. She also chose a bronze material, especially for undergarments.

She had picked out several Vulcan styles for the material when the seamstress suggested a human pattern she'd seen.

"I think this purple with the red embroidery would look very good made into this style," said the tiny, green-skinned woman, "I think it's a lovely design, and I'm going to offer it to clients who are not from your ship."

T'Pol looked at the dress, which was definitely human in its design. It was a halter sundress with a fluttery skirt that would hit just below her knees. T'Pol owned several human style-garments but nothing like this. Moreover, she had never appeared publicly with bare legs - something that simply wasn't done on Vulcan. Plenty of human women, including Ensign Sato, regularly wore even shorter skirts, but T'Pol had never even thought of doing so.

She paused.

_Perhaps_, she thought, _my mates would appreciate seeing me in such a dress. _

She nodded.

"Please do make that dress for me," she said, and the woman added it to her order.

T'Pol still wore her catsuits while on duty, but she resolved to wear the human-style dress the next time Trip and Jonathan went with her to movie night. The next one fell on an obscure human celebration called Bastille Day and the film they were showing was apparently renowned for the clothing. It would be appropriate.

* * *

Several nights later T'Pol sat in the darkened mess hall watching a film called _Marie Antoinette_, which portrayed the hedonistic life of a doomed Earth queen. The film was part of a series of events that celebrated Bastille Day, including a rather elaborate meal that Chef had prepared and a noon-day concert of French music.

When she had first heard the film's premise, she had expected to be indifferent to the story of an illogical, selfish woman. But to her surprise, she found the girl's story compelling. When the young princess's arranged husband proved an inadequate mate and the ritual of the court intellectually empty, the kind but unintelligent girl lapsed into emotion, self-indulgence and fantasy. By the time she grew up and embraced logic and austerity, it was too late. It was indeed a tragic tale with a strong moral.

Additionally, the girl had been torn between her Swedish lover and her husband, for whom she eventually developed a strong affection. Seeing the girl's heartbreak play out onscreen, T'Pol realized that she owed her mates a debt of gratitude for agreeing to share her.

T'Pol looked down at her purple dress, grateful that humans no longer attired themselves as elaborately as they did during the film's period. The corsets, underskirts and brightly colored dresses seemed design to make it impossible for the women to do anything productive. The layers of clothing, along with the rigid rules of behavior, had clearly been designed to suppress human passions as well as display wealth and status, obviously failing at the former. Self-control did not come from exterior, but rather internal control.

T'Pol sighed, glancing to her right where Trip sat , and to her left at Jonathan. She held a bowl of popcorn on her lap. Each time one of her lovers reached into the bowl, he glanced appreciatively either at her cleavage or at her legs. She had hoped they would like seeing her in human style clothing, but she had been surprised that they appeared more interested in the dress than the movie.

Jonathan had mumbled something about the film being a "chick flick" while Trip had complained that it was going to be too depressing, given the grisly fate of the heroine. Neither paid much attention to the story.

T'Pol remained interested in the film, but she gradually became aware that other members of the crew had not failed to notice the ship's three senior officers and the close proximity in which they all sat. Most of the crew knew that Trip was her mate, and members of her science team had even begun to openly refer to Trip as such.

She did not correct them, as their assumption was true. However, given the unusual nature of their triad, she had not offered more information. A few astute crew members, such as Ensign Sato and Dr. Phlox, _had_ made veiled references to her relationship with the Captain, however. Sato had once said something about it being nice that Trip and the Captain had become close again.

_Close enough to share. . .everything_, Sato had remarked with a smirk.

Sato was watching the film with her chosen mate, the young MACO called Hawkins. Behind them sat a pair that had caught many by surprise, that of Lt. Reed and Major Hayes. She knew such relationships commonly formed in the military, but she had been surprised when the two men had decided to share quarters.

It was one logical way to solve the ship's unbalanced male-to-female ratio. She, Trip and Jonathan had found another.

Apparently, Lt. Reed also suspected the truth about the ship's senior officers. When Trip had pleasantly teased Reed about his cohabitation with Hayes, Reed's reply was telling.

"You know, a few of the other Brits on the ship have started referring to T'Pol and you as The Hamiltons and the Captain as Lord Nelson," he had said.

Trip hadn't understood the reference, but he looked it up and discovered that the British Admiral had, during a time of great sexual repression, openly lived in a triad with a Lord and Lady Hamilton. Clearly, such relationships were unusual on Earth but occurred periodically. Trip had said that in hindsight Malcolm appeared more amused than anything - except perhaps a bit jealous.

As the credits of the film began, Trip exhaled.

"Thank god they didn't show her execution," he said, "That would have been a real downer."

"I believe the film assumes that the audience to be aware of Antoine's fate," said T'Pol.

"I was just upset when they took her dog from her," replied Jonathan, "After that, I kind of zoned out until the mob showed up."

Jonathan paused, he had nearly placed a hand on her back but resisted the impulse. The room had nearly emptied out, but he still never touched her in front of anyone else. He did however lean forward.

"Your dress was distracting me. In a most _agreeable_ way," he said in a low voice.

Trip, who never showed as much restraint as Jonathan, took her hand and looked up and down the length of her body.

"You look amazing, darlin'"

She nodded.

"Thank you," she said, "Now, I would like to retire to Jonathan's quarters. . .if you both would like to join me."

The two men grinned. She knew their answer already.

* * *

As soon as the door shut behind them, T'Pol expected one of them men to pounce on her. That was the habit, after all. But instead, she felt Trip's cool hand take hers and lead her away from the door.

It was as though neither of them had ever seen her legs before, she thought.

Trip leaned in for a kiss, his fingers trailing down her thigh until they caught the edge of her dress. Slowly, they slid under the fabric, retracing their path up bare skin.

"Jonathan," whispered Trip in between kisses, "Don't you think she looks beautiful in her new dress?"

"I think I said that. . .a few times," said Jonathan, who made no move to join their embrace.

Instead, Jonathan leaned back against his desk and watched them, a faint smile at his lips.

Trip's fingers found her backside, brushing across the flimsy material of her underwear and slipping just under the hem. He went no further, instead moving his hands to her front to gently massage her clitoris through the silk with both his thumbs. She gasped and closed her eyes.

T'Pol moved beneath his fingers, pressing her body closer to him. But he withdrew, gently pushing her back and leading her over to where Jonathan stood.

_He wants Jonathan to go first_, thought T'Pol.

Trip pressed her forward against the desk, bending her over and lifting her skirt.

Shivering, T'Pol kept eyes on the desk as Trip's hand feathered light caresses over the bare curve of her backside. She unconsciously parted her legs further, beckoning him toward the feverish ache between them. She gasped, stiffened, when he instead rewarded her with a slap on her posterior.

Her buttocks tingled with the sting, and her desire became sharper. She closed her eyes, waiting for Trip to touch her again, but he didn't. She heard movement and shuffling behind her...the sound of a zipper coming down, though who's she did not know. T'Pol resisted the urge to look; many of Trip's games involved a degree of sensory deprivation, and she was beginning to understand the appeal.

She gasped sharply as she recognized the hand that moved up her thigh and between her legs.

_Jonathan._

Jonathan's strong fingers moved beneath the now wet silk of her underwear and penetrated her body. She inhaled deeply and slowly, biting her lip. Jonathan's fingers had become so skilled at pleasuring her that she had to grip the desk harder to keep from simply collapsing.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

Her heart beat faster. It was an unnecessary question. Surely, Jonathan could tell she was aroused from her physical reaction. Yet, she sensed Jonathan desired a verbal response.

Such a response would arouse _him_.

Grateful that their position made it unnecessary for her to look at him, she whispered her response.

"Yes"

Jonathan responded to her affirmation with soft laughter and a kiss on her neck. All the while, his fingers brought her near to a climax. She pushed back against him. But Jonathan withdrew his fingers, denying her satisfaction. T'Pol whimpered in frustration.

"Missing something?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

She inhaled. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely, vowing that she would reciprocate this teasing when the opportunity presented itself.

"Tell me," he said, "Tell me what you miss."

She shivered, unsure of how to formulate an answer. She swallowed. "I miss your fingers in my body."

He laughed again, and she felt his arousal rubbing between her legs. "But I've got something even better than that," he replied.

She groaned softly at the feel of him. She needed him inside her, and he knew it. But he intended to make her ask for it.

Jonathan moved his hands to the insides of her thighs, caressing her while moving her legs apart. He continued to rub against her, and she was dizzy.

"Now tell me what you want," he whispered. "You want to get fucked? Is that what you want?"

She gasped at the profanity, but she responded. "Yes"

"Tell me. . .exactly."

She hesitated, drawing slow breaths in and out. She didn't even know how to tell him what she wanted. In response to her silence, she felt a light smack on her posterior.

"Tell me," he said again.

His blow wasn't as forceful as Trip's, but it did its work.

Her eyes squeezed shut. "I want you to fuck me," she said clearly.

Jonathan didn't respond with words. Hooking his fingers into her panties to pull them aside, he plowed into her. She involuntarily let out a sigh of relief mixed with pleasure as he filled her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, and she heard him moan as he pulled her closer.

Her profane words had provoked a forceful response, but suddenly Jonathan stilled his movements. He was enjoying the feel of her, just as she was enjoying the feel of him.

T'Pol opened her eyes, intending to glance up at Jonathan. But her eyes instead found Trip, lying on his side and watching her from Jonathan's bed. Though he was still dressed, she could tell he was enjoying what he was seeing.

Grinning, Trip caught her eye, and he winked at her.

In response, T'Pol moaned and clenched her body around Jonathan. Jonathan responded by thrusting into her with such a force, her grip on the desk nearly faltered.

Jonathan usually found more gentle means to satisfy her needs, but his new forcefulness was quite pleasing. She soon lost all rational thought as she felt Jonathan's fingers on her clitoris. She cried out, knowing that her climax would come swiftly.

"_Weht_," she cried, and he pressed harder, moving his fingers faster.

Soon her entire body rocked with pleasure, and she collapsed against the desk.

She was barely conscious, but she felt Jonathan withdraw. She felt empty as he took her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. He gently placed her down. She opened her eyes and looked up at Jonathan. He was smiling down at her and he brushed the stray hairs out of her face. Jonathan glanced over at Trip and grinned at the the younger man.

"Your turn," said Jonathan, who paused, "I want to see you fuck her. Hard."

Sleepily, she turned to Trip, who had already stripped off his shirt and was wiggling out of his trousers.

Naked, Trip crawled on top of her and covered her mouth with his in a deep, hard kiss.

As he kissed her, Trip reached up and unfastened the top of her dress. Soon, the front had fallen away revealing her breasts to his gaze. He bent down, kissing and licking each one in turn.

Soon, his hands moved lower, slipping under her dress and gripping the sides of her underwear. His eyes met hers as he slowly pulled them down. He moved lower to better remove them but never broke eye contact. He looked at her with such raw hunger that she instinctively pulled up her skirt and opened her legs.

Trip needed no further invitation, he crawled on top of her and pushed himself inside her. She let out an involuntary sigh at the feeling and threw her arms around his naked back.

He started to move, slowly and deeply at first. But his movements soon became faster. He grabbed her hips and tilted her body so his movements rubbed her clitoris in just the right spot, and she let out a short scream.

"That's right, baby," he panted. "Let me hear it."

T'Pol screamed louder, and Trip pressed his hands into her hips harder as he continued his movements. The pleasure was so great—first from Jonathan and now from Trip—she'd lost control of herself. She had no choice but to give herself over to them. She trembled at the thought of how much she had come to trust them, how much of herself she was willing to let them see.

She let herself be swept away, going limp in Trip's arms. . .confident he would give her what she so desperately needed. She sensed the pressure building in her body.

"That's it," he whispered, "Give in to it."

His words triggered her release, and she screamed again, louder and harder than before. She thought she would lose consciousness, but instead she felt her body and mind awaken to the moment.

Every cell in her body tingled, and it was though time had stopped. But time didn't stop. Trip continued his movements, and she hoped that soon he would join her in pleasure. Her body had become aroused again, and she sensed that he was close. But suddenly he stopped and pulled out.

She opened her eyes, frustrated by the sudden emptiness.

He wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Jonathan. Her other lover had stripped off his clothes and was climbing on top of her. T'Pol inhaled. She opened her mind to them, and she understood that Trip wanted to watch Jonathan enter her again.

Jonathan cool hands grasped her from behind the knees, pulling her wide and deepening the angle. She relaxed in his grasp and closed her eyes in anticipation.

Jonathan penetrated her swiftly and fully. She moaned deeply as he began to move in and out of her body. She wrapped her legs around him, knowing it wouldn't be long before he found release.

She met each of his motions with a moan, clutching at his neck and back. She wanted so much for him to find the pleasure he had earlier given her. Jonathan's motions became erratic. She watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to hold on just a little longer. She had a different agenda, and she began squeezing her muscles around him, prompting a groan.

He moved even faster, until finally shuddering and spilling inside her. He sighed deeply and went limp in her arms. The bond flowed between them, and she felt his pleasure in her mind.

T'Pol's skin tingled from the cool air after Jonathan rolled away from her. She turned her gaze toward Trip, and his eyes still burned with arousal. She took a deep breath as he moved toward her. He positioned himself on top of her, placing a kiss on her cheek as he did so.

He pushed himself inside her and started moving. As she had done with Jonathan, she wrapped her legs around his body to urge him forward. Her arms went around his back as he pounded into her, grunting softly in her ear. It wasn't long before Trip found his release, also sharing his pleasure with her—and Jonathan—through the bond.

As Trip slid off her, Jonathan snuggled up against her and she held them both against her body.

Eventually, Jonathan spoke. "We didn't ruin your dress did we?"

The dress was bunched around her middle, as neither of her lovers had bothered to remove it completely.

"I believe it is undamaged. . .just wrinkled," she replied.

Jonathan careful began to slide the dress off her body, around her hips and down her legs. He gently shook it before tossing it on the floor.

"It'll be fine," he said. "You'll have to wear it again sometime. Once we've recovered."

T'Pol's eyebrow raised slightly, and she looked over at Trip, who was only just returning to full consciousness.

"It's a really nice dress," he mumbled, eyes closed.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: My deepest apologies for the delay. The following chapter is long. I've also been twittering lately - so feel free to follow me Mistress_Euclid._

* * *

The negotiations with the Saurians had gone on for at least three days, and even T'Pol found her patience being tested. The three affable, reptilian aliens were willing to trade, but Ensign Sato believed that the men expected something from the Captain in order to seal the the deal for the desperately needed warp plasma, but she could not glean what it was. These thin, scaly aliens were far different from the Xindi Reptilians. They were charming and solicitous, but indirect, and their faces were difficult to read through their breathing masks. Something else about their manner struck T'Pol as suspicious, though, as her Human mates would say, she was unable to "put her finger on it."

For one thing, the aliens did not ever speak or look her in the eye, though they did seem to be appraising her body as they spoke to one another. They attempted to treat Ensign Sato the same way, until it became clear that she was the translator. Even then they would not make eye contact when they spoke to her. This was particularly trying since the odd cadence of the aliens' voices was incompatible with the UT. While the reptilians seemed very patient a_s _language differences were sorted out, T'Pol could sense the growing awkwardness in_ Enterprise's_ conference room, and perhaps a level of concealed agitation from Jonathan.

"They seem to want something. They keep asking for a gift," said Sato.

"What do they want?" asked Archer. "I'm willing to give them a gift if it will get us the hell out of here. I just need to know what it is."

Hoshi sighed. "I think you need to ask them directly, sir," she said. "Let me tell you how to ask."

Sato taught the Captain a few phrases. He repeated them to the Saurians, who nodded and seemed satisfied.

Archer faced Sato. "Did they happen to mention what it is they want?" he asked uncertainly.

Sato shook her head. "No sir. It's very strange. They just seem satisfied with the question. Their language is very complex and full of idiom." She frowned. "I'm afraid I'm missing something."

In any case, this seemed to help the negotiations. The Saurians transferred the warp plasma, and i_Enterprise/i_ in return transferred several cuttings from the garden's fruit plants as well as instructions on how to cultivate them. Earth flora obviously held great appeal to these aliens. They even included an unexpected gift of their own: several cases of locally produced brandy.

After the transfer, T'Pol headed down the corridor alone. She wanted to check-in with Commander Tucker, who was inspecting the warp plasma. Two of the aliens found her in the hall and began speaking in their strange language. As she attempted to communicate, one of them stunned her.

She awoke on their ship and realized it was traveling at warp. The sound of her breathing was muffled; she reached up to find her face was covered with a breathing mask. The two aliens who had accosted her in _Enterprise's _corridor were standing over her, their faces uncovered.

"We are happy to accept you," said one of the reptiles in broken Vulcan.

"Accept me?" she said.

"Your Captain offered you to us. We accepted."

T'Pol closed her eyes. Something clearly had been lost in translation.

* * *

"What do you _mean_ she's gone?" Trip hissed.

Jon winced inwardly, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. His reaction had been much the same when Reed had given him the news that his first officer—their wife—was nowhere to be found on the ship. He was glad he'd called Trip into his ready room to deliver the news. Trip didn't need to hear this from anyone but Jon, and he sure as hell didn't need to hear it in front of everyone.

_The way I did_ Jon silently added.

Trip looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. He dropped into the chair against the wall. "They have her," Trip murmured numbly.

Jon moved closer, unsure how to comfort his friend and lover. Stooping, he caught Trip's gaze squeezed his arm reassuringly. "It's looking that way."

Trip was shaking with what Jon guessed was fear and rage and all the other things he felt himself, but didn't dare show in front of his crew. One of the drawbacks of command. "i_Do something,/i _Jon."

Jon stood, strode purposefully to his desk and stabbed at the comm button. "Archer to Reed. Status report."

_"Captain,"_ Malcolm's voice said through the speaker,_"sensors have just acquired the Saurians' warp signature. Lt. Sato is still scanning the data we downloaded from them for information about their homeworld."_

"Have Travis lay in a pursuit course and engage at maximum warp. Out."

By the time Jon looked up, Trip was up and pacing the room. "We've gotta _do_ something!"

Jon crossed the room, raising his arms to...what? Clasp Trip's shoulders? Embrace him? It was frustrating, wanting to touch him at a time like this and not knowing how. "We are...and we will. Right now I need you to get down to engineering. You're going to have to push those engines harder than they've ever been pushed." Jon dropped his arms. He felt Trip's fingers brush against the back of his hands as he tentatively reached out as well. "_She _needs you down there."

Nodding, Trip backed up reluctantly. "You call me the minute we know anything."

"You know it."

Trip didn't wait to be dismissed. Jon wasn't sure protocol exactly covered this situation any way.

And he had to confess to being a little relieved when the door slid shut on his lover's back. He would be better off in engineering, actively working toward facilitating T'Pol's rescue.

_Unlike me_, thought Jon ruefully, dreading having to sit impotently on the bridge and fight the urge to look over at T'Pol's empty station.

* * *

Ten hours later, Trip paced in engineering. The engines were being pushed to the maximum as they gave chase T'Pol's Saurian abductors. Meanwhile, Hoshi had found some information as to the location of the aliens' homeworld, which appeared to coincide with the Saurians' current course. This bit of information made him feel slightly better about the inevitable slowing of the ship's speed, which was probably less than an hour away.

Trip was ready to crawl out of his own skin. He was sure the engines were only moments away from a meltdown or breach if he continued to push them this way. Regardless of the constant attention they required, it wasn't enough to keep him from thinking about how good it would feel to tear apart the next Saurian he saw with his bare hands. His crew gave him a wide berth, his pent up aggression occasionally showing in the way he'd smack a console or bang tools around.

The Saurians had crossed a line. God help them if even one impeccably arranged hair on her head was out of place when i_Enterprise/i_ caught up to them. If she'd been harmed, he'd make them pay. Jon would make them pay.

Trip sighed. He had done everything he could not to worry about T'Pol, to focus on the engines. Despite his fear and anger, he had a strong instinct that she was still alive and unharmed, presumably thanks to the bond. It was small comfort. Strangely enough, he was more worried about Jon than he was T'Pol.

The news of T'Pol's abduction had caused a boiling rage in Jon, the likes of which Trip had not seen since before they were thrown back in time. He hid it well from Malcolm, Hoshi and the others, but had Trip recognized the coolness that masked unbridled emotion. Emotion that T'Pol wasn't around to help him squelch. Jon had icily given orders to pursue the ship at top speed and sequestered himself in his ready room.

Trip had contacted him about how long he expected to maintain maximum warp, and Jon had merely barked "not good enough" before cutting off the comm.

Trip scrubbed a hand over his face out of fatigue and frustration.

"Sir," said Hess softly, "Why don't you take a break for a half hour or so? We're going to need you during the slowdown, but we've got you covered until then."

Trip heard the sympathy in her voice, and he was grateful for it. He was glad of all the support he'd gotten from the crew—something that Jon was denied given that he wasn't supposed to be involved with T'Pol, even though everyone knew he was. Trip wanted to go comfort him, talk to him.

Instead, he went to his quarters, planning on sitting in the dark and resting until Hess notified him that the slowdown was imminent. He wasn't sure he could take being shut out by Jon yet again any way.

He sat down in his chair and looked out at the stars. T'Pol was a big girl. She was also a Vulcan as well as a former V'Shar agent. She was nobody's damsel in distress, and she could no doubt take care of herself. As long as the bond hummed in his mind, he told himself everything would be okay.

He closed his eyes, almost feeling like he would fall asleep sitting up. He opened them to find himself in a bright, white room. It reminded him the end of the movie i_2001: A Space Odyssey./i_ He must have been dreaming because T'Pol was standing there.

"T'Pol, are you okay?" asked Trip tentatively.

"I am unharmed," she said, "The Saurians are under the mistaken impression that the Captain offered me as a gift. Apparently females are traded this way in their culture. One of them speaks rudimentary Vulcan, but he discounts my insistence that the Captain did no such thing."

Trip walked toward her and hugged her tight. She responded, though he could tell that she was more interested in talking.

"How. . .?"

"I believe the bond is asserting itself," T'Pol replied in anticipation of his question, "You must have been at rest, and I was able to pull you into my mind. This is my meditation space."

Trip looked around. There wasn't much to see, so he turned his attention back to her.

"Do you know where they're taking you?"

"Yes," she said, "To their planet. They do not seem to comprehend I consider myself a prisoner. They believe I should be honored to be such a gift."

Trip put his hands on her shoulders.

"They haven't tried anything. . .weird, have they?"

T'Pol shook her head. "Not as of yet. They have only been trying to make me feel comfortable, attempting to adjust the temperature of my quarters and finding me appropriate food. It seems they eat live rodents."

Trip looked her in the eyes. She wasn't scared, that he could tell.

"I do not believe it will be difficult to free me once i_Enterprise/i_ has arrived at their homeworld. Unfortunately, I have been unable to discover the coordinates."

"That's okay," replied Trip, "Hoshi's got 'em. We're giving chase. We should catch up with you within hours."

T'Pol nodded. "Scan the Southern Continent, near the equator. The Saurians told me they would place me there because it is a desert."

"Will do," said Trip. "Jon's gonna be relieved you're okay. You haven't talked to him, have you?"

"No," she said, "His mind has not been quiet enough. I believe my abduction has agitated him."

Trip smirked to himself at her Vulcan understatement.

"Inform him I am well and will do everything I can to assist in my rescue. I do not believe the aliens had ill-intentions. It was simply a cultural misunderstanding."

Trip nodded. There was silence.

"You need to inform Jonathan," she said, "You must go."

Trip inhaled. He didn't want to let her go, but he knew he had to. As if in answer to his feelings, T'Pol lifted her hand and held forward two fingers. Instinctively, Trip entwined his with hers. This caused the bond to stop flowing and start gushing.

"I will see you soon, _Thy'la_," she said.

"I love you, baby," he said.

"And I you," she replied before disappearing.

Trip opened his eyes. He was elated that T'Pol was alive and well, but his empty arms ached.

He had to find Jon.

* * *

Trip walked past Hoshi at her comm station, nodding at her.

"How are you doing?" she whispered.

"Hanging in there," he said. "T'Pol's more than capable of taking care of herself. She'll be fine. How's the Captain?"

Hoshi looked down at her comm console. She never said anything bad about anyone, but the look on her face was telling.

"I'll go talk to him," Trip responded.

He rang the chime on the door, and Jon snapped that he should enter. He stepped into the ready room, and Jon was standing at the damn window, the way he always did when he was pissed off at the world.

"She's okay," said Trip.

"How are the engines? How long can we sustain this speed?"

Trip sighed. "Not much longer," he replied, "but I'm not guessing she's okay. I talked to her."

Jon turned around and stared at him.

"She contacted me telepathically—through the bond. I went back to my cabin to rest before the slowdown, and suddenly...poof. I'm standing in a white room talking to her. She told me to tell you that she's okay. She would've contacted you, but said your mind wasn't quiet enough. They haven't hurt her. It's just a misunderstanding. They thought you gave her to them."

Jon grimaced. "Tell Hoshi to get in here. . ."

Trip folded his arms. "You're not going to take this out on her. You know that this isn't her fault. She's the one who got us the coordinates. You should be thanking her for that. T'Pol says that we need to scan the desert of the southern continent when we get there."

Jon turned back toward the window. "Get back to engineering. I want the slowdown to be short. Once it happens, I want to be back at Warp 4.9 within the hour."

Trip hesitated. It was tough being so close to the boss, yet letting him be the boss. It was Jon's ship and Jon's call.

"Yes, sir," replied Trip. After a pause, he asked, "You okay?"

"I will be when we get her back," said Jon without turning around, "Dismissed."

* * *

Jon felt strange. He thought he should feel something like panic or pain or fear at T'Pol's loss, but he didn't. He just felt cold. Determined. He would get her back. As much as he loved her—and he did love her, with every molecule in his body—this didn't feel so much about that as about losing a vital member of his crew. T'Pol's organizational skills, her focus and her wisdom were vital to the community that _Enterprise_ had become, and was crucial to their continued survival. No one, least of all him, could afford to lose her. If he failed T'Pol, he failed his crew. If he failed them, the future of Earth was doomed, pure and simple. The fact that the dim-witted aliens could have thought that T'Pol was available for trade, that she would be given away so casually, was a supreme insult on all personal and professional levels.

He would make them understand that.

It was night when _Enterprise_ arrived at the Saurian planet. Scanning the surface for one Vulcan life sign, even though the humanoid population was a mere 500 thousand and scattered in small towns a villages, would take hours.

"It's possible we'll just be able to transport her back if we get a strong enough signal," Trip had told him. "It'll be very tricky and require us to dip into their atmosphere, which could muck up the impulse engines with all that dust and electromagnetic interference, but it's a possibility."

A possibility wasn't good enough.

When Archer finally appeared on the bridge, he saw that Trip had returned to the bridge after they'd made orbit. He and Travis Mayweather were in the situation room, presumably ironing out the piloting details of T'Pol's retrieval.

"Hoshi," said Jon calmly, "Contact the head lizard. King. President. Whatever he is. I want to talk to him."

Hoshi looked up at him apprehensively, but she nodded. "Yes, sir."

A few moments later, Hoshi informed Archer that she had the Saurians' prime minister for him, and a lizard man appeared on the viewscreen. "Good greeting to you, stranger. How may I help you?"

"Some of your people took my first officer. I want her back. Now."

The Saurian leader looked puzzled. "I know nothing of this. Private transfers of goods, such as a female, are not in my authority."

Hoshi cast a glance over at Malcolm.

Travis's eyes flicked nervously up to Trip's face, then back down to his readouts.

"I'll be very grateful if you assist me in the return of my officer," Archer continued. "I'm going to have my comm officer transfer all the data you will need to identify her. I expect her safe return within the hour."

The alien made a strange buzzing noise, and his head wobbled back and forth in a gesture which Jon assumed meant no. "As I said, Good Sir, I have no authority to return your woman. But I can offer you one of ours, if it would please you."

Jon inhaled and leaned forward. "Malcolm," he said, "Aim the phase cannons on a medium sized village on the northern continent. I don't care which."

Malcolm didn't move.

"That's an order, Lieutenant," said Jon before turning his attention back to the alien, "The phase canons on my ship can easily destroy one of your villages in less than a minute. I'll order my tactical officer to fire if T'Pol is not returned to us within the hour. I'll have him destroy another village each half hour until she's safely returned."

As Jon cut off the comm, Malcolm slowly began to aim the phase canon and Hoshi turned around. Jon stood up and headed into the ready room.

"Let me know when they return her," he said.

"Sir," said Malcolm, "What if they call our bluff?"

Jon paused for a moment, irritation welling up through the coldness. "I'm not bluffing. If she's not back in within the hour, destroy the village."

The bridge was silent. Then, Trip stepped out from the situation room, where he had been monitoring the exchange. "Are you crazy?" To Reed, he said, "Belay that order, Malcolm."

Reed looked confused though visibly relieved as he pulled his hands away from his console.

Archer's head snapped toward the back of the bridge. "In my ready room, i_Commander_./i"

The bridge officers looked down at their consoles, not yet daring to be relieved that i_someone/i_ was trying to stop an already bad situation from spiraling out of control.

Behind closed doors, Archer seethed. "What the hell do you think you were doing out there?"

"This isn't the way, Cap'n," Trip said calmly.

Jon's brow furrowed, pointing to the chair against the wall. "Weren't you the guy sitting over there, demanding that I do something?"

Trip's jaw dropped incredulously. "Murder, Jon? All those innocent citizens who have nothing to do with this? What would T'Pol think? You think she'd want this? Hell, how would you even stand to look at yourself?" He paused. "They haven't hurt T'Pol—_yet_. But who's to say they won't change their minds if you start firing on their villages? They might kill her because of you!"

"That's enough," Jon said through clenched teeth. Before Jon realized it, they were standing nearly nose to nose, both their faces flushed with anger and eyes narrowed in determination. The line between officers and lovers was getting more obscured by the second.

"Even if they don't," Trip snapped, "T'Pol's gonna be ashamed that you did this in her name. I can't believe you'd destroy everything we have just for petty revenge."

"I said that's enough!"

Trip took a deep breath. "Cap'n, step back for just a second. . .I know you're not the kind of man to kill innocent civilians. I know it even if you don't right now. But if you do try and go through with this, I'll have no choice but to relieve you of command. I'll get Phlox up here to sign off on a medical if I have to."

Jon seethed quietly for a moment. He had no doubt that Trip would do what he thought he had to do...

...and Jon would do what i_he/i_ had to do. "And you'll leave me no choice but to relieve _you_ of duty if you don't get your ass down to the transporter room and stand by."

Trip stared at him for a moment.

"That's an order."

Whether from the menacing quiet of Jon's voice, or from not wanting anyone else at the transporter controls when it came time to retrieve T"Pol, Trip backed out of the room. "This isn't over," he promised.

Archer rubbed his hands over his face. Once he was certain Trip would be gone from the bridge, he called for a status report.

* * *

Trip stood at the transporter console, worrying that he'd gone too far, threatening to relieve Jon of command if he went through with his plan.

_Or maybe I didn't go far enough, _he added mentally, thinking of the poor villagers who stood to lose their lives because of a botched trade negotiation that had nothing to do with them.

But Trip didn't have much time to ponder the situation. He wasn't at the transporter pad ten minutes when Hoshi called down to him with coordinates for transport. The Saurians had yet to respond to Archer's demands; scans had finally detected Vulcan life signs, and Captain Archer had ordered that they would simply extract T'Pol if they could make it deep enough into the Saurians' atmosphere. Travis would let Trip know when they were clear of the interference.

His hands were sweaty. Everything was royally fucked. T'Pol was gone. Jon was crazy.

_And I'm this close to being a mutineer._

Trip sighed. If he could at least get T'Pol back in one piece, the other things had a chance of being okay.

Travis's voice soon startled him out of his reverie. _"Now, Commander Tucker. And you'd better hurry, sir—they don't seem to happy that we're taking a closer look. They've sent ships to intercept us, and they're going to start firing on us any minute."_

"Understood," Trip said into the comm. Though they were through the worst of the atmospheric interference, he still struggled to get a lock. As soon as her signal had been acquired, Trip hurriedly pulled the levers down, and T'Pol materialized on the transporter pad.

Just like that, the crisis was over.

She stepped off the pad as she removed some kind of breathing apparatus, looking cool as a cucumber. Her eyes met his. Trip opened a comm channel to the bridge. "Commander T'Pol is aboard," he said as she stepped off the pad towards him.

"I am gratified to return safely," she said.

Trip's knees nearly buckled at the relief that was still mixed with anger and concern for Jon, but he managed to move forward and pull T'Pol into a hug.

"I'm so glad you are safe," he said.

She pulled back. "Something is amiss," she said. "Your mind is troubled."

Before Trip could answer, explain what had happened, the ship rocked. Apparently, the Saurian interceptors had caught up to them.

His communicator chirped. It was Hess.

_"Sir,"_ she said,_ "We sure could use your help purging the impulse engines so we can get the hell out of here."_

"Acknowledged," Trip answered. "I'll be right there." To T'Pol, he said, "Walk with me."

En route to engineering, Trip filled her in on everything, from Jon's downward emotional spiral to the point of making questionable command decisions, to his own threat to take command. He felt guilty laying all of it at her feet only minutes after her safe return, but between the bond and her sensitive Vulcan hearing, it would only be a matter of time before she found out, any way.

For her part, T'Pol listened with quiet interest. Other than the occasional question for clarification, her only response was a raised eyebrow. When Trip was finished, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "You acted appropriately. I will attempt to discover the root of Jonathan's behavior so we can help him."

Trip relaxed visibly. Whether as first officer or wife, he was confident that the situation would get resolved in T'Pol's capable hands. "What can I do to help?"

The hatch to engineering opened to admit Tucker.

"Remain here," T'Pol said. "The engines require your attention during our departure. In the meantime, I will report to the Captain and try to determine the best course of action."

Trip nodded. Before she turned to go, he held his two fingers out to her, the way he'd done in the white room vision.

T'Pol's eyes softened into her version of a smile as she brushed her fingers against his.

It was good to have her home.

* * *

T'Pol sat in front of the candle in her quarters, dressed in her silk pajamas and robe. She stared at the flame but she had no desire to meditate. When she'd attempted to report in to the captain, he wouldn't see her; rather, he ordered her to report to Sickbay. Phlox had told her to retire to her quarters to rest; although she was physically unharmed it was always best to take rest after a traumatic experience. She had not bothered arguing with him.

Hours had passed since her return, and she felt uneasy. The crisis with the engines had been averted, thanks to Trip and his team's competence. They were currently at Warp 3, heading away from her abductors. The ordeal has been mildly unpleasant, but she had certainly experienced worse.

Her mind would not quiet. Despite her assurances that she would resolve the current situation, Trip refused to join her, preferring to keep his hands busy in Engineering as he emotionally decompressed.

She had twice more attempted to contact Jonathan. Twice she had been answered with a standard message saying not to disturb him unless it was an emergency.

Although she was loathe to admit it, she found the messages hurtful.

Firming her resolve, she blew out the flame. It was time to act.

* * *

T'Pol strode into the bridge and saw that Jonathan was not in the captain's chair. She turned to Ensign Sato, who was doing a good job of pretending T'Pol's presence on the bridge in her nightclothes was not at all unusual. Hoshi glanced over to the door of the ready room.

"He's in there, Commander," she said.

T'Pol nodded curtly as she walked toward the door, almost forgetting to ring the chime. She did so, and she heard Jonathan's voice.

"Come," he said.

He was standing at the window, his back to her. As the door closed behind her, she felt a chill in the room, and it wasn't just from the Earth level climate setting.

"I was wondering if you planned to come to bed or if you wished to continue your. . .sulking?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but he did glance back at her very briefly before returning to his original position. She moved into the room and toward him, eventually standing next to him, hands clasped behind her back. She stared out at the stars as he did.

"I left orders I wasn't to be disturbed," he said curtly.

"I didn't realize I was disturbing you," she replied.

Jon turned to her, and she recognized anger in his eyes. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't directed at her, but at himself.

"The bond between us might have something to do with your inability to keep control of yourself. A Vulcan male would react very much the same in the circumstances you found yourself."

Jon snickered. "I hardly acted like a Vulcan," he snapped.

"No," she said. "You acted like a Vulcan who was not in control of his emotions. The bond predates the time of the Awakening, and you undoubtedly accessed . . .primal expectations deep within my mind."

Jon closed his eyes. "Then how come Trip managed to keep it together?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Trip has been bonded with me for much longer. Additionally, the months of neuropressure—particularly the meditation component of the practice—better prepared him for dealing with the bond."

Jon slumped slightly, his expression wounded.

T'Pol reached for Jonathan's hand, turned it palm-side up. She watched his expression for change as she applied pressure to the contact points responsible for calming. "The duration of one bond does not invalidate the other. That you and I are bonded at all should be evidence enough of that."

The corner of Jonathan's mouth twitched slightly. He seemed to visibly relax; whether it was from the abbreviated neuropressure or her attempt to bolster his ego she was unsure, due to her lack of experience with the latter.

When he finally spoke, his words lacked their previous edge. "You weren't in danger until I put you there. My crew watched me come unglued. And Trip..." He trailed off, defeat overtaking his features.

Yet, he still clutched her hand. The bond energy hummed between them, and she felt his anger give way to confusion. He ached with a primal need, something akin to what Trip had felt all those months ago when he visited her in her cabin. She knew Jonathan needed her.

As though he understood that she comprehended this, he shifted his grip so he could hold her hand tightly. He pulled her toward him and covered her mouth with his. She opened to him, allowing the energy to swirl around her as his tongue explored her mouth. A corresponding ache appeared between her legs, and she melted into to him.

Their hands roamed as they desperately clutched at each other. Jonathan's hands shoved at the waistband of her pajama bottoms, easily shoving them past her hips. She let out a ragged sigh as his fingers sought the damp heat between her legs, teasing and caressing her.

T'Pol stepped out of her bottoms as she backed Jonathan toward his desk. Walking on tip-toe, she continued her explorations of his mouth, pulling on the zipper of his uniform as they moved. PADDs and other items went clattering to the floor as Jonathan slid onto the surface. T'Pol reached in, one hand trailing upward under his shirt, the other pushing into his underwear, seeking the velvety coolness of his erection.

Jonathan groaned as she massaged him, and her other hand enjoyed the taut feel of his chest, stopping briefly to pinch his nipples. Jonathan shifted, forcing her to stop her movements as he placed her in position above him. Knees on either side of him on the desk, T'Pol guided him inside her and she was impaled upon him. She gasped at the feel of him.

He had his hands on her hips, but he shifted one so that his thumb brushed against her clitoris each time she moved against him. The pressure built quickly inside her.

The thought that they should not be doing this in his ready room, with the bridge officers only steps away flickered through her mind. It was a violation of the rules they themselves had set, yet rather than cool her desire the thought inflamed it.

"I'm close," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled at her, and moved his hips faster, forcing her to do the same. Soon enough, she cried out and he muffled the sound with a kiss. Their connection was so great that he climaxed almost immediately afterward, sighing breathlessly against her.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked when she had sufficiently recovered.

"Yes," he said, "Yes I am."

She was satisfied with the answer, but her mind turned to Trip and the pain he was still in. Beneath the euphoria that flowed between her and Jonathan, Trip's anger and confusion was still there.

T'Pol rested her head against Jonathan's shoulder, deriving comfort from their closeness as her body slowly returned to normal. "You need to reconcile things with Trip." Her voice had a vulnerable quality that surprised even her.

Jonathan caressed her back tenderly, his fingers finally meandering up her neck and into her hair. "I know. And I will."

"Tonight."

He pulled back from her just enough to look her in the eyes. "Are you alright? Really?" He brushed a thumb tenderly over her cheek. "I'm sorry. It hasn't been easy, has it?"

T'Pol tried to formulate an appropriate response, but she had none. Trip was better suited toward the emotional maintenance of their relationship; she felt grossly inadequate.

"Tonight, I promise," Jonathan said, pressing a kiss into her forehead. "Just...let me freshen up first."

T'Pol nodded, relieved. "Agreed."

* * *

The sight of Jon's door filled Trip with trepidation. T'Pol had summoned him here, presumably to force an intervention. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd prefer to stay good and pissed for a while. Jon had crossed a line.

Sure, Trip had been ready to do anything—_anything—_to get T'Pol back safely...but as soon as he knew that she was unharmed and didn't feel any sort of threat, cold-blooded murder seemed a little excessive. That, and the fact that such a rash action could've compromised T'Pol's safety was just...

Insane? Inexcusable? Selfish?

Trip took a deep breath, his fingers hovering over the keypad beside the door. It was too soon for this. Trip was normally pretty laid-back, but for now he still had a right cross with Jon's name on it. He still needed time to cool off.

Trip knew the entry code, and he had entered Jon's quarters countless times without ringing. But he rang the chime, and his heart beat nervously. The door opened and he stepped inside.

T'Pol was standing there in her nightclothes and Jon was seated nearby, also in his nightclothes.

_Definitely not a business meeting_, he thought.

"Evenin'" he said to both of them.

"I asked you here so you and Jonathan could resolve the conflict produced by my abduction," said T'Pol.

Trip sighed as the door shut behind him. Even after all these years among humans, she didn't waste time with small talk. Trip quickly glanced over at Jon, but quickly fixed his eyes on her.

"I theorize that you both were bombarded with subconscious instincts through the bond. Thanks to your experience with neuropressure and meditation, you were able to channel them more appropriately. Although, it is my understanding you, too, were quite agitated."

Trip nodded, but did not respond. Nor did he look at Jonathan, though he felt the other man's eyes on him.

T'Pol continued. "Jonathan's mind, however, did not have the necessary grounding to keep the impulses at bay. His anger was his own, but the bond energy fed it and amplified it. But with our help, he will be able to avoid this in the future."

Trip rubbed at his temples, trying to digest everything T'Pol was saying. When she'd explained the bond to them weeks ago, she'd apparently forgotten to mention the part about him and Jon hosing down the decks with testosterone the minute there was any perceived threat against her. Still, he had his doubts. Jon was the captain; he couldn't go off all hell-bent on revenge, endangering the woman they loved and the crew right along with her, not to mention countless innocent people.

"You were way out of line," Trip said, finally looking Jonathan in the eye. "If anything happened to her, I never would've forgiven you."

"I know," Jon murmured, eyes downcast.

There was tense silence until T'Pol stepped between them. She bridged the space, putting one hand in Trip's and reaching for Jon. He stood, taking her hand. Trip felt her doing something with her mind. . .calm took over. Then, she let go.

T'Pol stepped away, and Jon stood before Trip. Jon was looking at him, the anger from before gone from his features. He lifted his hand up and brushed Trip's cheek. Instinctively, Trip lifted his own hand and moved Jon's palm to his mouth and kissed it, finally seeing the other man's pain through his own.

"I didn't mean..." Jon stammered. "I'm—I'm sorry."

Regret and forgiveness squeezed Trip's heart as he stood there, clutching Jon's hand against his face. "I know."

Jon's other hand went around Trip's back, pulling him into an embrace. Trip's drew his arms around Jon, hugging him close for a moment before lifting his head to meet Jon's lips in a kiss.

The kiss was deep and slow, with Jon's tongue exploring Trip's mouth. It went on and on before Jon broke away for a moment to smile softly and look into his eyes. Trip felt himself get hard, and he ached to feel Jon touching his bare skin.

Jon grasped the zipper tab of Trip's uniform. Never breaking eye contact, he pulled it down slowly, not releasing it until it was all the way to the end. Trip shivered as the warmth of Jon's hand slid its way in, past the fabric of the jumpsuit and beneath the waistband of his Starfleet blues.

Trip kept his eyes locked with Jon's as he felt the older man's hand grasp his cock, and he groaned. He wanted to touch Jon's bare skin, so he reached down and grabbed the edge of his shirt.

Jon let go of him long enough to help Trip pull off the shirt. Trip smiled at the revelation of Jon's bare chest. He'd always secretly admired it, and now he got to touch it. He ran his hands lovingly over Jon's cut muscles, and Jon kissed him again. This time,Trip slid his tongue inside Jon's mouth, exploring gently.

Jon began slowly stroking Trip's cock beneath his underwear, alternately building and soothing the ache inside. The kiss broken, Trip rested his head on Jon's bare shoulder, breathing in Jon's earthy scent as he gasped shakily.

Impatient with the remaining barriers between them, Trip shrugged out of the sleeves of his uniform. Jon released Trip's cock to slide his fingers along Trip's sides, catching the hem of Trip's shirt layer and pulling it up over his head. Having flung the garment across the room, his arms slithered down to push the uniform past the younger man's hips. Trip was already kicking his boots off as he stepped out of the pant legs.

Trip brought his arms down around Jon's shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly close. Capturing him in another searing kiss, Jon returned his grasp to Trip's swollen cock, resuming his tender and leisurely pace. Trip slid his tongue inside Jon's mouth, mimicking the same rhythm Jon was using on him.

Jon gently pushed Trip toward the bed. Trip moved backwards onto the mattress, taking Jon with him. Trip reveled in the feeling of strong, male hands on him as Jon's erection teased him through the soft fleece of his sweat pants. It still thrilled and frightened Trip all at once, how he needed and enjoyed the weight of the other man's body on him—how inconceivable a thought it was to _not_have moments like this with Jon any more. Trip realized he'd been nearly as angry about Jon risking their connection as he had been about Jon needlessly risking T'Pol's life.

Trip searched Jon's eyes and found a desperate plea for understanding and forgiveness.

Jon trailed a finger along the side of Trip's face. "It'll never happen again," he said softly. "From now on, I promise to take care of both of you the way I'm supposed to. No more crazy stuff."

Trip believed him. Whether because of T'Pol's infusion of bond energy or because of his own need to heal these recent emotional bruises, Trip knew that he needed the reassurance of being touched by as much of Jon as possible.

With a swift motion he tugged Jon's sweats past his hips. Trip moaned softly at the friction against his body as Jon wiggled the rest of the way out of them. Trip's fingers alternately caressed and dug into Jon's now-exposed backside, pulling him even closer. Jon's hard cock pressed against Trip's naked skin.

Trip was vaguely aware of T'Pol a few feet away. She watched with great interest, though she made no move to join her lovers. Trip looked up at her through half-open eyes. He wanted to beckon her over, though he was so caught up in the feel of Jon's soft kisses along his neck. T'Pol's only reaction was a distinct nod that he should continue. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut as Jon's mouth descended upon his for another kiss.

Trip shifted, his hand seeking Jon's hardened cock. He briefly considered going down on the other man, but the need to feel Jon's heart beating into his and the heat of his breath grazing his shoulder was too great. They lay there facing each other, both with one arm hooked around the other pulling each other close, while each stroked and caressed his partner with the other hand. Trip had no idea how much time passed as they pleasured each other amidst kisses peppered with unintelligible murmurs of need and devotion; he just knew he wanted it to go on forever. All too soon, he and Jon were shuddering, grunting in ecstasy as they spilled onto each other. Jon collapsed against him.

Trip's pulse still thundered in his ears as he and Jon kissed and caressed, every fiber of his being deliciously alive at the other man's touch. As their bodies began to return to normal, reality slowly began to poke tiny holes into the delicate fabric of his post-coital high.

T'Pol was suddenly at their side with a towel. The corner of her mouth was slightly upturned, the amusement in her eyes unmistakable to her mates. "Am I correct in assuming we can now consider this matter settled?"

Trip's mind was slow to clear as he struggled to recognize the object she held, let alone what he should do with it. Thankfully, Jon reached across, grabbed it and began mopping off their bodies. When he finished, he tossed the towel aside, disengaging from Trip to make just enough space for one slender Vulcan between them. "T'Pol..." Jon began apologetically.

Trip shifted, motioning for her to crawl over him and join them. "We're sorry, baby. We didn't want to leave you out. We just..."

As T'Pol nestled between them, her mates made quick work of liberating her from her silky blue pajamas. "The two of you had important issues to resolve," she answered quite reasonably. "It behooved me to not interfere." With that, her bare form was swallowed up by their embrace.

Trip and Jon met at her mouth, three tongues gently tangling amidst tenderly nibbling lips. T'Pol's chest heaved as her breathing quickened with desire. Though recently spent, Trip had to admit he, too, was still feeling a little frisky.

Jon broke the kiss, his eyes sparkling as they flicked back and forth from Trip to T'Pol. The intensity of his voice belied the soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't say it enough," he whispered, "but I love you both."

T'Pol blinked slowly. "It's unnecessary to verbalize that which is self-evident," she answered softly.

Trip suppressed a chuckle at Jon's widening grin. He pressed a kiss into T'Pol's hair. "Maybe...but you have to admit, it is kind of nice to hear it sometimes."

"Agreed," T'Pol said after brief consideration.

John laughed softly as he leaned down first to kiss T'Pol, then Trip.

Trip enjoyed Jon's kiss for a moment, before he leaned over and kissed T'Pol in turn. He looked her up and down, reveling in each one of the precious curves he had missed so much. One of his hands moved up and caressed her pointed ear, and she shivered slightly. He got a kick out of how sensitive they were.

"You do love her ears, don't you?" asked Jon, teasing.

Trip smiled. "Don't you?" he replied, tracing his tongue on one of the pointed tips.

Jon leaned very close, as if he were about to kiss T'Pol, before answering. "But I must admit, I'm partial to her lips — especially when they are swollen from kisses," he said, and instead of kissing her, he traced her lips with one finger.

T'Pol had closed her eyes. She wasn't blushing, but Trip knew that lavishing such praise on a woman wasn't particularly Vulcan. He glanced at Jon, who was clearly recognizing the same thing.

"You're just going to have to get used to our compliments, T'Pol," said Jon, "We can't help ourselves."

Trip chuckled. "That's what you get for falling in love with a pair of primitive humans," said Trip, "So primitive, they admire all sorts of things about you."

As if to punctuate that, Trip reached down and squeezed her luscious ass. He honestly wasn't sure if he liked the ears or the ass better.

Trip had a sudden urge to admire that ass a little more closely. He shifted T'Pol so she lay on her side, backside toward him. He began peppering kisses down her warm spine, dropping a particularly long on on the small of her back before wiggling down further and kissing her ass. He ran his finger leisurely over the curves, feeling his cock stir slightly.

"Well," said Jon, "Her ass is beautiful, but I prefer her breasts."

Trip looked up and saw Jon plant a few kisses on her neck before starting to gently suckle and tease her breasts.

T'Pol's body was limp and her eyes closed. The bond energy flowed at a low hum, and Trip understood how much she was enjoying herself.

He also felt how much she was enjoying it as his fingers slipped between her legs and found she was wet and quivering. He remembered fondly that she had generously let her two mates love each other, and that it was time she was rewarded.

He began to caress her with more purpose, and she responded with a long, soft moan.

Jon lifted his head and looked up at her, then down at Trip. He smiled, just slightly.

Trip parted her legs wider with his hands and moved further down the bed, so much so that his legs were no longer on the bed and he was more beneath her than next to her. He slowly ran his tongue along her opening until it reached her clitoris. He looked up and saw Jon beckoning him. Trip understood.

He shifted his legs upward toward Jon, and he continued to ravish T'Pol with his tongue as he felt Jon's lips around his cock. Trip's entire body melted at the dual sensations, and he fought to be able to keep enough control to keep pleasuring T'Pol while enjoying Jon's onslaught. T'Pol shifted slightly in response, and Trip glanced up to see her taking Jon's cock in her mouth.

The three of them turned into a conduit for each other's pleasure, giving and taking in equal measure. The telepathic link between the three of them flowed as freely and as easily as their caresses.

Jon skillfully used his hands and mouth on Trip, and soon he felt his balls tighten. Trip knew he was going to come, but he sensed T'Pol's impeding climax as well. Her flesh quivered and her thighs trembled as Trip continued to use his tongue on her. Finally, he went over the edge, triggering her climax and in turn triggering Jon's—the perfect balance of their bond creating unison.

The three of them lay there for a long time, enjoying the silence as the bond still hummed gently. Eventually, Trip shifted and moved up the bed. Jon flipped himself around and pulled Trip into a spoon position. Trip pulled T'Pol against his chest and held her that way as they all drifted into sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: The following chapter contains some . . .ahem . . .role playing inspired by my name. Of course, if you've made it this far in the story, I doubt you will mind, dear reader. _

* * *

The shimmering market was crowded, with many vendors selling all sorts of goods—food, clothing and even hardware. As he walked several paces behind T'Pol and the planet's Ambassador, Jon had time to notice how everything seemed to sparkle or shine in chromes, and bronzes and lucites.

This was a matriarchal planet, so T'Pol had taken the Ambassador was an attractive humanoid woman, about Jon's age in appearance, with straight black hair, almond-shaped eyes and a pronounced ridge that went from the top of her forehead down to her nose. She wore a severe looking blue dress with a shining chrome belt, and she had not spoken a word to Jon or Trip since they had arrived.

These Ikaarans had highly advanced isomagnetic collectors, something that _Enterprise_ desperately needed. But the Ikaarans did not have advanced ideas about gender equality. What few men Jon had seen appeared to be enslaved by the women, servile and groveling. It was no wonder Hoshi suggested T'Pol take the diplomatic lead after having some initial conversations with the Ikaarans.

T'Pol had been doing quite well, even playing along with the idea that he and Trip were her servants. She actually seemed to be enjoying it—a little too much, as far as Jon was concerned.

Jon cast a glance over at Trip, who was smirking. Didn't either one of them find this inequity—to the point of slavery—to be offensive? T'Pol just seemed her usual Vulcan inquisitive self. Objectifying the damn culture the way men were being objectified. She was asking if the males ever objected to their status.

The Ambassador seemed amused. "Of course not," she replied, "Our slaves choose this life. They are happy to serve."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at that, and she looked back and Trip and Jon before turning her attention to the Ambassador, who continued.

"Each young man who has the strength to choose this life is absolutely precious to us. It is our duty to see he is well cared for and knows his value, provided he serves well. We must keep them disciplined, out of respect for their choice."

"So," replied T'Pol, "The men are not forced into servitude?"

The Ambassador made a gesture that clearly meant "of course not." "No," she said, "Our children are not born into slavery, although both boys and girls observe the relationship between adult males and females. When boys begin adolescence, they are put into low level servitude. However, at the age of 17, they must leave our world and experience the so-called freedom and equality of nearby worlds. Not all Ikaaran planets arrange themselves as we do. After a year, a man can choose to stay away or come home to his rightful life of servitude. More than half return to us . . . and they are allowed to choose which mistresses they will serve. So. . .you see. . .our slaves are most powerful."

Jon snorted softly, unable to keep a lid on his skepticism.

Trip leaned close to Jon, keeping his voice low. "You wanna tell me again how we keep ending up in all these places with all these crazy ideas about men and women?"

Jon smirked. "Just lucky, I guess."

Both men looked up to see that T'Pol and their guide had moved on to another kiosk. T'Pol looked on with great interest as the merchant demonstrated the durability of what appeared to be a restraint of sorts—a long, silken strap that appeared to be adjustable in length. The purple strap had black cuffs on one end and metal rings on the other.

Trip winced. "Either that, or we're the unluckiest sons of bitches ever born."

The Ambassador looked back at them with a vaguely disdainful look. She began showing T'Pol the silky-looking restraints...and other devices that Jon didn't even want to know the purpose of...and she spoke louder than she had before, as though to ensure Jon and Trip would hear her. "Allow me to have these delivered to your villa," said the Ambassador. "A gift from my people. I'm sure your males will appreciate what they can accomplish. Men...as you know...desire to please, but must be taught how to do so with a firm hand."

"Indeed," T'Pol deadpanned, turning to incline an eyebrow at Jon and Trip. A vague flush of jade tinged her cheeks, though whether from the nature of the Ambassador's gift or their inability to behave like local men, Jon was unsure.

As the Ambassador moved further down the kiosk to haggle with the merchant, Trip took advantage of the lapse in her attention to speak softly into T'Pol's ear. "I am _so_ gonna spank you for this later," he promised. With a nod toward Jon, he added, "And he's gonna hold you down when I do it."

T'Pol's only answer was an enigmatic eyebrow.

Jon bit his lip, swallowing his desire to tell those two where they could stick their kinky little games. It was one thing if they wanted to play around behind closed doors, but this was people's real lives. It wasn't right for people to be enslaved, even if they chose it. Not for their whole lives.

Jon felt tension build in his shoulders and back, and his hand instinctively went up to cover his mouth in a gesture to help prevent him from speaking. He rubbed his chin pensively and thought,_ I can't wait to get the hell off this sicko planet_.

The Ambassador returned to T'Pol's side, eyeing the way in which she was interacting with both Trip and Jon with something akin to curiosity and amusement. "I'll leave you and your men to enjoy the market on your own," she said, "but if you need anything, just use the comm system I showed you."

T'Pol nodded. "Thank you, Ambassador," she replied.

"We are looking forward to your presence at the banquet tonight."

With that, the Ambassador left. When she was out of view, Trip grinned and pulled T'Pol into an embrace in front of all the curious onlookers. His hands crept down her back to squeeze her rear-end. "I'm looking forward to this party, too," he said, "It sounds like it's going to be interesting."

Jon sighed. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination," he muttered to himself as he followed his lovers through the market toward their lodging.

* * *

The Ikkaran's had housed them in a bright white villa that included a private garden, swimming pool, kitchen and one large bedroom.

As the three of them walked up the gleaming bright stairs towards their room, T'Pol was reminded of the not-so-very-long-ago night on the Gilesian planet, when the three of them had first truly found each other. However, on this night, she was comforting her mates with a gentle hand on each of their arms. Back then, she had thought the gentle touching and kissing of the Gileseans had been uncomfortable. But the Ikkaarans made the Gileseans seem quaint and chaste.

"Either the Ikkaaren men are double jointed or they practice some kind of yoga," Trip remarked, whistling.

Jonathan grimaced. "I'm not sure how either of you finished your dinner."

"What happened to objectifying other cultures?" replied Trip in a teasing voice. He had found the whole situation so amusing that T'Pol had feared he would damage their diplomatic relations with the Ikaarans.

"My problem is the way they were objectifying _us_," snapped Jonathan, waving a finger between Trip and himself.

They reached the door to their room, and T'Pol punched in the code. The room was large, and included a big, lucite bed piled high with sumptuous, soft bedding. Matching lucite chairs sat opposite of the bed, and there were even small roll out cots hidden behind the wall, presumably so that T'Pol would not be required to share her bed with her slaves.

Truthfully, she had found herself suppressing irritation at the Ikkarran women's desire to for her to share her mates with them. She had explained to them that such a thing was not done in her culture, but they had persisted in offering her access to several of their most attractive males in exchange for access to hers.

She firmly declined.

"Thanks for getting us out of that. . .diplomatically," laughed Trip as the door shut behind them.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, and T'Pol observed tension in his neck and shoulders. He did not like ceding control to her.

Trip, on the other hand, wore an expression of amusement and fascination."You did seem to enjoy yourself tonight, darlin'," he said, running his hand up her arm.

She glanced over at Jonathan. "It is part of our mission not to judge other cultures. Though their ways are different, their society thrives, from what I have observed. Perhaps you would do well to try to learn something from them."

She wondered for a moment if Trip would find the inequity disturbing, given his history. But the Ikkarrans were different in that the men chose to serve, rather than be forced.

"It did seem like their men were content in their role," said Trip, "although I can't say I'd like to live that way permanently."

Trip locked eyes with her. There was a playful invitation in the way the way he had spoken the word _permanently_.

He stood there, waiting. Waiting for her, she realized. He wanted to continue to playact his subservient role, except in a more intimate way.

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back, adding what length she could to her spine. She inhaled a deep breath and sent dominant energy to Trip with her eyes, as much as through the bond.

Trip smiled just slightly before dropping to his knees before her. "How may I serve you?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

She turned toward Jonathan, whose gaze flicked from her to Trip, she supposed somewhere between incredulous and amused.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said.

T'Pol regarded him expectantly. Trip kept his place and waited patiently

Jonathan laughed uncomfortably, putting his hands up. "Look, if you two want to role-play for a bit, that's fine, I'll get out of your way—"

"Kneel," T'Pol said in what she hoped was an authoritative tone.

Jonathan was affecting indifference to the game, pretending like it did not appeal to him. But thanks not only to the bond, but to the tell tale shaking in his voice, she knew that Jonathan feared the game not because he did not wish to give her control, but because he desperately _wanted_ to.

"On your knees, eyes down," she ordered.

To her surprise, Jonathan obeyed.

"I wish you to submit to me. Do you?" she said, mimicking the words she had heard earlier. T'Pol brushed his cheek with her hand. "Do you?"

Jonathan closed his eyes."Yes," he said, not without difficulty.

T'Pol looked over at Trip, who wore a hint of a smile.

"Jonathan's reluctance has displeased me," she said, "I wish you to punish him."

"Yes, ma'am" he said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

T'Pol's eyes narrowed in warning. His impertinence would likewise have to be dealt with, or so the rules of this game seemed to dictate. With a nod toward Jonathan, she said, "Remove his clothing. Now."

Trip's expression turned serious and he averted his gaze as he stood up and approached Jonathan.

"Tell him to put his hands on the wall," she said, knowing that it was important that she give the orders to Trip.

She sensed that through this ritual, Jonathan had connected with the game. He kept his eyes down, as the slaves of this world had done.

"Against the wall," said Trip, helping Jonathan towards the wall and placing his hands and feet wide apart.

Jonathan glanced behind him.

"You do not have permission to look at him," she said. "Trip, punish him for that."

With only a hint of hesitation, Trip smacked Jonathan on his rear end. However, she noticed that he did not hit as hard as he had when he had spanked her this way.

She moved closer to her lovers, and she smacked Trip with the intensity she expected. "You will punish him properly. And he will be grateful," she said.

Trip looked down at Jonathan, slapping him as instructed. "Will you be grateful?" he whispered.

Jonathan hesitated.

"Again," T'Pol hissed.

Trip smacked Jonathan on the backside with an intensity that equaled the last.

"Again," she repeated.

Trip complied.

"Harder," she whispered.

Jonathan gasped, though from the pain or the loud _crack_ of Trip's hand against his flesh, she was uncertain.

She leaned in, her voice a barely audible whisper in Jonathan's ear. "Express your gratitude...and you will be rewarded."

Jonathan inhaled shakily. "Thank you," he murmured.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and glanced at Trip. "Say his name," she ordered.

There was a long silence.

"Thank you, Trip," Jonathan said finally.

T'Pol felt a jolt of exhilaration, not only from the power, but from the pleasure she sensed she was giving both her mates.

"Good," said Trip, who gently caressed the red marks on Jonathan's skin.

T'Pol inhaled, leaning over and letting her lips come very close to Trip's but not kissing him.

"Jonathan will be rewarded by giving you pleasure in whatever way you see fit," she whispered. "Ask him if he will enjoy that."

Trip obeyed. "Jon, will you enjoy your reward?" he asked, still caressing the other man's backside.

Jonathan drew a ragged breath. "Very much so, Trip."

"Then get down on your knees and unzip me," replied Trip.

T'Pol felt her heart beat faster and a slow ache begin between her things. She wanted to join in Trip's pleasure as she had done so many times before, but she knew that was not right at this moment. Instead, she stepped back from her mates and seated herself in a chair.

Meanwhile, Jonathan got on his knees before Trip and undid the younger man's trousers.

Trip's erection sprang forth, as if to match the one that the naked Jonathan had. T'Pol nodded at Trip.

"Go ahead, suck on it," said Trip gently, running a tender hand through Jonathan's hair.

T'Pol watched as Jonathan grasped Trip's erection at its base, first swirling his tongue around the tip. Jonathan continued to tease for a moment before taking the length into his mouth, eliciting a low moan from Trip as his eyelids fluttered shut.

T'Pol watched intently, instinctively running her hands over her body as she watched for long and lingering moments. But these caresses were not enough. Although she had wanted to let them alone, she could not. She wanted to hold and kiss Trip as Jonathan made him climax. She stood and approached Trip, whose head was thrown back and eyes still shut. Careful not to disturb Jonathan at his work, she moved into Trip's embrace and kissed him.

"You may climax whenever you wish," she whispered into Trip's mouth

Her words seemed to trigger Trip's release, and he shuddered in her arms.

Jonathan released Trip, who was clearly dizzy with euphoria.

"Thank Trip for allowing you to pleasure him," she ordered Jonathan.

She saw Jonathan's face flush, and he hesitated. However, he eventually spoke."Thank you," he said.

Trip mumbled a soft your welcome, and T'Pol supported his weight as she led him to the nearby chair. She gently seated him in it and kissed him on the lips. "Rest here," she ordered.

She returned to Jonathan, helping him to his feet. "You did well," she whispered, "and you will again be rewarded."

With that, she led him to the bed and had him lie on his back.

"Wait here," she said without further explanation, moving across the room toward a set of recessed drawers. Pulling one open, she felt a squeeze of trepidation as her fingers gripped the contents—devices she'd been assured would give Jonathan maximum relief, but now she had her doubts.

Trip appeared at her side. "You are supposed to be resting," she said with an authority she wasn't convinced she felt.

"You up for this?" Trip asked, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

When she didn't answer, he leaned down, kissing her ear as he whispered, "He needs you to do this."

T'Pol turned to face him, straightening. "Sit down, or prepare to suffer the consequences."

Trip smiled at that, hazarding a quick caress against her cheek and a wink. "Yes, ma'am" he said, playfully obedient.

T'Pol took a deep, slow breath and took some restraints and clamps from the drawer. Jonathan's state of arousal was at its peak, and she knew it was time to assist him. She approached the bed.

She gently bound Jonathan's wrists and feet to each bedpost. His eyes were closed and breath calm. She knew it was an effort for him, and she rewarded him by grabbing his erection and gently massaging it. He moaned and moved against his restraints.

"It is inadvisable to resist," she informed him coolly, sensing the swell of his panic through their bond.

Still he tested the wrist restraints, tugging against the bed post.

"Disobedience will be punished," she reminded him, tightening her grip on his erection as though to punctuate this, "while compliance will be rewarded."

Jonathan's heart was beating and he continued his struggles for a moment, and she let go of his arousal in favor of gentle caresses across his body. He did eventually relax, and she whispered encouragement. She then took a velvety blindfold and placed it over his eyes before carefully fastening each nipple clamp in place.

T'Pol stepped back and began to strip off her own garments, which she did with cool efficiency. She then climbed up on the bed and on top of Jonathan. She kissed him on mouth before whispering, "Do you give yourself completely to me?"

Jonathan hesitated. T'Pol knew that the rules of the game dictated that she follow through with her threat of punishment, but a part of her was torn; Jonathan was a man accustomed to control over everything within his reach. Submission would not come easy to the captain of a starship.

Resonating through the bond, she was aware of Trip, fortifying her resolve.

Slowly, gently, she began to tighten Jonathan's nipple clamps.

"Do you give yourself completely to me?" she repeated.

Jonathan slowly relaxed again. "Yes," he said clearly.

"Good," she replied, and she shifted her body so she could impale herself on him.

She did so with slow, deliberation, enjoying the feeling of him entering her centimeter by centimeter. Finally, she relaxed her weight and fully engulfed him. She caressed his face and chest with her hands and whispered more praise.

As she began to move, exhilaration overtook her. Her own arousal became as significant as his—perhaps more so—and she craved her own release. His trust in her both excited her and made her feel vulnerable. The heady feeling caused by such conflicting emotions bubbled up within her; that Jonathan was allowing himself to exist solely for her pleasure, even just for this moment, fueled her impending orgasm with a thrill of ecstasy tangled with fear. She knew his climax would come soon, and so she positioned her movements to encourage her own release.

Jonathan writhed beneath her, but he wasn't struggling; he was simply caught up in his pleasure. This finally sent her over the edge and she shivered and cried out. Jonathan found his pleasure shortly afterward, and she had the presence of mind to remove his clamps as he did, inspiring such a moan that she feared she had harmed him. But gradually, she realized, as intended, the release of the clamps had cause his climax to be more intense.

T'Pol had also experienced an intense orgasm, and she drowsily lay her head on his chest for several long moments as she recovered.

Eventually, T'Pol gently rolled off Jonathan and stood beside the bed. She saw that Trip was looking and her and she beckoned him with a gesture, holding her two fingers toward him. Trip came, grabbing a towel from the dresser as he did so. Together, they cleaned off Jonathan's body with slow, sensuous motions.

"Remove his blindfold," said T'Pol, and Trip complied.

Jonathan blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He sighed, looking at both of them before closing them again.

Still unable to move, he allowed himself to be soothed by both pairs of hands caressing him. T'Pol planted soft kisses along his face. "Are you well?"

Jonathan gave a soft laugh, a tired smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, yeah. I'm well."

T'Pol exchanged a look with Trip, who was likewise smiling at her. With a gesture she indicated he should rise and join her on her side of the bed. She kissed Trip gently, and then whispered in his mouth. "You are wearing too many clothes. Remove them."

Trip smiled and began stripping off his garments. As she watched, it occurred to her that she would never tire of seeing him without clothes. He, like Jonathan, was a beautiful sight. She knew that he was aware of the power he had over her, the power to inspire desire that she was unwilling to suppress.

It meant something that he was willing to cede control to her.

Anticipating her desires, Trip held his hands out before him, wrists together.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, applying gentle pressure to them until he returned to the chair.

Trip obediently waited while T'Pol retrieved another restraint from the drawer.

T'Pol secured his wrists behind the chair. She ran her hands over his body, taking note that he had become aroused once again. She kissed him on the mouth, open and lingering.

When she broke the kiss, she asked, "What do you want?"

Trip smiled. "I want you," he replied. "I wanna be inside you."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. She may have been new to the game, but she was dissatisfied with the answer. She grabbed his chin and glared at him.

"What do you want?" she demanded again.

Trip closed his eyes. He swallowed hard. "I want what you want," he whispered.

T'Pol reached down and grabbed Trip's arousal, squeezing hard. He winced before sighing with pleasure. Her Vulcan strength did have its benefits.

"Fortunately, Mr. Tucker," she said, "what I want is what you desire."

With that she climbed on top of him, inserting him inside her body as she did so. She moved with swift deliberation, her climax overtaking her swiftly and almost without warning. Trip's soon followed and he threw his head back, sighing deeply.

She rested her head on his shoulder. After taking a moment to collect herself, she lifted her head to exchange a kiss with the still-breathless Trip. It was time to end the game.

He looked her in the eyes, smiling playfully. She was about to speak when she heard Jonathan clear his throat. He was still tied to the bed.

T'Pol pushed herself from Trip, moving to the back of the chair to untie him. "We'll be there presently, Jonathan," she said, assuring him she hadn't forgotten him.

Trip laughed softly and together they walked to the bed and undid Jonathan's restraints, each caressing him gently. They both paid special attention to the slight red marks around Jonathan's wrists and ankles.

"How are you?" asked Trip.

Jonathan sighed deeply. He didn't answer, but he didn't appear upset either.

T'Pol stretched out beside Jonathan, trailing her fingers through his chest hair as she snuggled in close. "This was a new experience for each of us," she soothed. "You are understandably conflicted."

Jonathan seemed to be about to speak, but he didn't. Trip, who had positioned himself next to Jonathan and had his head on the other man's shoulder, brushed a hair out of Jonathan's face.

"You know ...it's pretty common for powerful men to like to take the opposite role behind closed doors...seems they like to let go for a little while."

"Is that what they say?" said Jonathan, his voice soft but clear.

Jonathan's arms suddenly snaked around T'Pol and Trip in turn, pulling them closer. His body felt relaxed, and she felt a tentative calm through the bond. She caught Trip's eye for a moment, and she reached across Jonathan's body to entwine her fingers in his.

"In a way I envy you," continued Trip. "Being in charge of engineering isn't quite the same. Don't get me wrong. It's fun to give up control—but not as much fun as it was for you."

Trip locked eyes with T'Pol. "Or you being in the other role, for that matter," he added.

T'Pol was tempted to look away, but she didn't. She held his gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly. Jonathan looked at her curiously, and she knew she would have to explain.

"Vulcan women are expected...to submit to their mates, not be in control of them," she said. "Taking control goes against both the evolutionary and cultural norms of my people."

Jonathan lifted his head slightly, and he smiled at her. "So how did it feel?" he asked, "Did you like it?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "I may not wish to take on that role all the time, but it was certainly exhilarating. I look forward to trying it again," she said.

"Well," sighed Jonathan, "Then I guess Trip and I will have to be your slaves again...sometime in the future. You can bring some of this stuff back to the ship, right?"

T'Pol glanced up and the restraints that were hanging from the bedposts. "I believe that can be arranged," she replied.

Trip laughed softly. "I can always fabricate more stuff...if either one of you needs something special," he said.

"That'd be nice," replied Jonathan as his eyes fluttered shut.

"My pleasure," replied Trip, whose fingers were still entwined with T'Pol's.

Thanks to the contact, she understood that Trip's pleasure came not from his own experiences but from allowing both Jonathan and her to experience this new kind of intimacy.

As she watched Trip drift off to sleep, she was satisfied—but she also wondered what the two of them would make of some of her uniquely Vulcan needs.

Needs that they had not yet experienced, but she sensed they would soon.


	15. Chapter 15

_Just a reminder. M-rated. More role playing below. Just a bit of a switch._

* * *

The villa sparkled in the morning sun, and out of habit T'Pol was straightening up the bedroom. The Ikkarans would have been shocked to discover her doing such menial tasks, but she didn't care. Their hosts kept late hours and did not wish to meet them until afternoon, so her mates were enjoying their leisure time. After a pleasant breakfast together, Jonathan and Trip had decided to spend the morning making use of the villa's swimming pool. She was not as attached to the idea of sunning and swimming, but she had decided to join them.

She stripped off her clothes and headed out to the private pool garden. Jonathan was swimming laps and Trip was sunning himself on a lounge chair. He opened his eyes, and his mouth dropped. Illogically, so, she thought. Not only did he see her unclothed on a regular basis, he knew that Vulcans did not wear swimsuits.

Trip stood up and approached her. He made no move to touch her, but he looked her up and down. She was suddenly, unusually, conscious that she was naked and he was not.

T'Pol knew her lack of swimming attire would provoke her mates, but the look in Trip's eyes was more than desirous. She remembered his promise at the market, and she realized he was of a mind to keep it. Her unclothed state meant something in the context of what had occurred the previous night, and Trip intended to use it to reverse her role.

Her eyes met his, and he smiled. She glanced over at Jonathan, who had swum up to the edge of the pool and was watching them intently.

"You both will need to keep your defiance in check this afternoon," she said, "We don't wish to insult our hosts."

Trip glanced over at Jonathan and grinned.

"I think we both proved that we can. . .adjust to the situation."

"You both did well last night," she said softly, "after we returned, that is."

"It's not easy giving up complete control," said Trip, "as pleasurable as it can be."

"You believe I could not do as well?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Jonathan laughed at that, knowingly.

"I didn't say that," said Trip, "but I think you'll find it a challenge, that's all. Jon, do you think she's up for it?"

Jonathan pushed himself out of the pool, his body dripping wet. He stood up. "I think she can do it. I just think she won't have as easy a time as we did."

Trip folded his arms and looked her up and down. She was still uncharacteristically conscious of her nudity.

"I will serve you," she said clearly, looking down.

"On the ground," Trip ordered softly.

T'Pol took Jonathan's extended hand and he guided her down until she knelt before Trip.

"Hands and knees," said Trip.

She lowered herself until she was prone, thankful to be on the soft grass rather than the hard tile.

"Jon," said Trip, "Hold her shoulders down."

Jonathan slowly got to his knees, gently pressing her face to the ground and placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

""I think you were enjoying things in the market too much. Don't you?"

T'Pol kept her eyes down, knowing she shouldn't look up at either of her mates. "Yes," she replied. She breathed in and out slowly, and she felt Trip's calloused fingers softly caress her posterior.

"Do you think you deserve to be punished for that?" asked Trip.

She inhaled. She knew the game. There was only one answer. "Yes," she replied, as her heart beat faster.

She felt a sharp, stinging blow land with a _crack,_ harder than he had ever hit her. Her nerve endings tingled, and as if to punctuate that, she felt his fingers deliver feather-light touches on her hurting skin.

"Would you like another?" he asked.

T'Pol knew the consequences for hesitation, but for reasons still alien to her she had difficulty finding her voice, finally answering with a shaky "Yes."

The slap to her backside matched the intensity of the previous blow.

"Good girl," whispered Trip.

T'Pol was warmed by the unmistakable approval in his voice, his fingertips again soothing her with the lightest of caresses over her throbbing flesh.

"Are you enjoying your punishment?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. Her face burned with the realization that she looked forward to his next blow. The place between her legs ached sharply, and she needed more stimulation. She also found that ceding control was. . ._exhilarating_. Yet, the next blow did not seem forthcoming. She resisted the urge to look up at him, and she waited. Meanwhile, Jonathan's grip on her shoulders became slightly tighter.

"You tell me. Tell me what you want." asked Trip.

She swallowed and bit her lip. "I want what you want," she said, remembering the previous night.

As she waited, almost desperately, for the blow she craved, she heard him gently laugh.

"Not good enough," he whispered, "I want to hear you say how much you want it."

"I want another." She moaned softly and squeezed her eyes shut. "Please..."

He reacted immediately, delivering a smack that made her wince as well as quiver with pleasure. She felt his caresses again, but this time his hand strayed from her backside, exploring the wetness between her thighs. She gasped and moaned louder, but his fingers didn't seem intent on pleasuring her.

"Jon," said Trip, "I think she is enjoying this. It's made her all hot . . .and wet."

"Really?" she heard Jonathan reply playfully.

She felt Trip remove his fingers and lean forward to where Jonathan knelt. She desperately resisted looking up, but she failed. Fortunately, her mates were too engrossed in each other to notice.

She saw Trip lean forward and offer his fingers to Jonathan, who sucked on them eagerly.

"Nice, huh?" asked Trip.

"Very nice," Jonathan answered, then leaned forward to place a kiss on Trip's lips.

Before her disobedience was detected, T'Pol lowered her eyes again and found herself staring at Jonathan's arousal. As silent as he had been, he was clearly enjoying the game. Trip had to have noticed, too, because he soon spoke.

"Maybe you should have her take care of that for you?"

T'Pol felt her head being pushed down, Jonathan's erection suddenly before her face. Caught by surprise, she resisted the urge to flinch.

"Suck it," Jonathan ordered her clearly.

She inhaled deeply and took him into her mouth, allowing her her tongue to dance around his shaft before she sucked him a hard as she could. Possibly harder than she ever had, and he responded with a loud groan.

"Beautiful," he gasped.

She reveled in the way she was pleasing Jonathan, and she worked him hard with her hands and mouth. Suddenly, she felt Trip's fingers ghosting over the sore skin of her backside.

"Good girl," said Trip, "Keep going."

She sucked harder and faster, and Jonathan responded by digging his hands into her shoulder and letting out a near-anguished moan. In response, Trip smacked her backside with another hard, stinging crack, which made her dizzy with pleasure.

"That's it, honey," whispered Trip, "Make him come. I know you want to."

She worked faster and faster, teasing Jonathan's testicles with her fingers. She felt them tighten and soon her mouth filled with salty liquid. She swallowed it all as she let go and Jonathan ran his grateful fingers through her hair.

She hoped Trip would smack her again, but she instead felt his hands on her thighs.

"Open your legs," ordered Trip and she instantly obeyed.

As he entered her, a frustrated whimper caught in T'Pol's throat. The sensation of being filled and stretched by Trip was pleasurable, but she was spread so wide she was unable to create friction where she craved it most. She struggled to adjust herself, but to no avail; Trip and Jonathan both still held her firmly in place.

Her hand slipped involuntarily between her legs, in an effort to deliver the relief she so desperately sought. Once more she felt the sting of Trip's hand against her backside, even harder than before.

The jolt from the spanking provided her a small measure of mercy, but it was short-lived and she was crying out again. Trip grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

"We'll have none of that, darlin'" he said firmly, "You'll come when we say you can, not before."

Jonathan's hands became less firm, more soothing. "I have an idea," he said to Trip.

Trip ceased his motions, and spoke to Jonathan. "What?"

"We can remove the temptation," Jonathan suggested, "if we take her upstairs to where the equipment is."

T'Pol didn't need to look up to know Trip was grinning, and she moaned a little as he withdrew from her. Before she realized what was happening, Jonathan had scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her towards the house.

Trip was following closely behind, and she knew nothing else to do but close her eyes. When they reached the bedroom, she expected to be tossed onto the bed, but instead, Jonathan placed her on her knees. She felt Trip's hands bind her wrists together and hook them to the wall.

T'Pol heart caught in her throat, and her emotions started to unravel. In the barbaric past, when a man's mate was unwilling, he would bind her thusly so she could not escape him. Even since the Awakening, women were sometimes ritualistically positioned this way, only without the bindings, as they awaited their mate's attention.

She went limp in the restraints, telling herself that Trip would never hurt her. He was merely playing a game meant to intensify her pleasure.

She felt Trip's hands run across her back, her buttocks and the back of her legs. "You're doing great, darlin," he whispered in her ear.

His hands gripped her thighs and spread her legs wide. She felt him fill her body, which was slick and wet and ached for him, and he used his hands to wrap her legs around his body. She tightened them as his arms came around her waist. She cried out, and he moaned deeply in her ear.

Jonathan edged closer. Reaching between T'Pol and the wall, he ran his hands up and down her taut stomach, eventually sliding higher to knead the curve of her breasts. Her head went back onto Trip's shoulder, and she moaned again when Jonathan pinched and teased her nipples.

"Don't you dare come yet," Trip growled into her ear.

Emotion ran riot through T'Pol. Joy...pain...ecstasy...frustration—all became tangled until one was no longer discernible from the other. She wanted nothing more than to please her mates, though the urge to forcibly free herself for the sake of attaining a state of relief-even if it meant extracting the hook from the wall—was becoming undeniable.

"Not yet," Trip said hoarsely as he continued to mercilessly thrust in and out of her.

T'Pol's body tensed. The last shred of her physical and emotional control was eroding away as she watched. It would have been shameful, humiliating, were it not for the touch of her mates.

Jonathan's hands moved lower. She struggled to hold on. She was losing.

She searched Jonathan's face through eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. He and Trip were not speaking, though it was clear there was communication happening between them.

"Go ahead, Jon," Trip rasped. "Make her come."

T'Pol's heart leapt at the sudden show of mercy.

Jonathan's fingers found her clitoris. Emotions continued to mingle and conflict; rather than the relief she thought she desperately craved, she was at once delighted and disappointed that she had reached the encounter's natural conclusion.

"Make her come, Jon," Trip's voice resonated in her ear.

T'Pol climbed higher than ever before as Jonathan teased and tortured her.

"Do it," Trip urged her softly.

Caught up in the chaos of her own pleasure, T'Pol was unaware of the smile that played across her mouth.

"Do it now!" Encouragement became an order.

T'Pol's body tightened and spasmed as she fell from her precipice. Trip immediately followed, spilling into her with an agonized groan.

A scream tore from her lips...and something else, not immediately recognizable to her own ear:

the peal of laughter.

Vaguely, as if far in the distance, she felt Trip's body shudder its own release as his pleasure filled her mind. Jonathan's hands ran up her body and turned her face toward him.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, planting soft kisses on her face.

She felt her mouth contort into a strange shape, as the laughter softened to intermittent giggles. Jonathan gently undid the bindings, and Trip's head lay on her shoulder. Both their bodies heaved from their exertions, and they simply slid to the floor in each other's arms.

"I think the game's over," said Jonathan, as he lay down also and positioned himself in front of her. His hands caressed her face, and he watched her closely.

"You were wonderful, baby," whispered Trip, "Just perfect."

Another giggle escaped, and she reached her hand to her mouth. She thought it must be a strange sight to her humans—the fear that was no doubt in her eyes when she laughed.

Trip was suddenly focused, though still catching his breath. He leaned closer, his expression of concern mirroring Jonathan's. They exchanged a worried glance. "Baby, are you okay?"

T'Pol struggled not only to regain control, but to conceal her state of panic from her mates. "Perhaps I was overwhelmed by the role playing," she said, possibly trying to convince herself as much as them."I require rest...and meditation." She took a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to center herself and purge the intrusive emotional reactions. "I apologize for my lapse."

Jonathan looked at her with nothing but compassion. "There's no need to apologize. _We're_ sorry if we pushed you too far."

Trip's arms squeezed her gently and he craned his neck around to look at her face. "I . . .didn't mean to hurt you at all. I sensed you were enjoying it. I'm sorry if I went over the line."

"I sensed you were liking it, too," said Jonathan, "but... Is there anything we can do?"

T'Pol sat up and began breathing deeply, in and out. She needed quiet.

"I require meditation," she repeated hoarsely.

"You got it," said Trip, "Let's get you cleaned up first."

She nodded, only dimly aware of what she was agreeing to. Mentally detached from her body, she barely felt the cool damp cloths Trip and Jonathan slid over her body. One thought alone stayed prominent in her mind:

She and her mates would have to talk. Soon.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One_

_A/N: My apologies for the long delay between chapters. I hope this proves worth the wait. Pon Farr is a tricky business to write, even more so when a woman has two mates. _

* * *

Jon didn't understand what was happening. Or why.

Things had been strange since their stay on Ikaara Prime. Strained, even. T'Pol had been scarce, except for her duty shifts, citing a need to meditate and rest. She began missing meals. On occasion, her patience seemed to be lacking, and others appeared to notice increased tension in her demeanor, though no one ever said anything. Jon and Trip started to wonder if they'd pushed her too hard, damaged her somehow, during that last encounter. The joy that had been resonating through their bond at that time was unmistakable; it was hard for Jon to imagine such a seemingly positive thing unraveling T'Pol's emotional control to the point of being harmful, but then he wasn't a Vulcan. It also was clear to both Trip and Jon that she hadn't recovered from her emotional outburst, contrary to her assurances.

Tension. It existed between Jon and Trip now, too. Jon suspected they were alternately blaming themselves and each other for T'Pol's current state of mind. Jon hadn't seen hide nor hair of Trip for the last several days. This was probably a good thing, as they oscillated between near-violent agitation and equally near-violent sexual attraction whenever they were in the same room. By all accounts, the staff in Engineering were giving him a wide berth, leaving him to curse and clatter at his work bench.

T'Pol was avoiding Trip and Jon. Trip was avoiding T'Pol and Jon. And it all made for a cold and empty bed the last few nights.

And now, here Jonathan Archer was, again seeking solace in the isolation of his private head, adjacent to his ready room. It wasn't right. It wasn't normal. His thoughts would invariably turn to T'Pol, and he would become so overwhelmed by sexual tension and desire, even fuel consumption reports, thoughts of water polo scores, or mental images of what Tellarite pornography must look like would not be enough to drive down his erection, and there was only one way to soothe himself, albeit temporarily.

The first time, it was almost funny.

The second time, he was able to dismiss it, citing the awkwardness and loneliness since leaving the Ikaarans behind. All it told him was that he, Trip, and T'Pol needed to talk. Soon.

That there were subsequent times was a concern. Jon had painful flashbacks to puberty as he recalled the only other period in his life he had such issues with self-control.

That the frequency of his need was increasing had elevated it to alarming.

Jon wondered if Trip was going through anything similar, or if T'Pol had any insight into the situation. He even wondered if he was experiencing a "bond withdrawal" of sorts, in the absence of close contact with his lovers.

But Jon wasn't thinking about that right now, sitting alone on the lid of a stainless steel toilet as he tugged and stroked on his erection, pulled out through the open zipper of his uniform.

His mind took him back to Ikaara Prime, to all the ways T'Pol had violated him, and to the many more he secretly hoped she would next time. Initially he was loathe to admit it, but Jon was slowly becoming comfortable with the knowledge that she could make him do _anything, _and he would be more than happy to indulge her. He had looked upon the Ikaaran males with contempt; now, his mind was slowly changing. If the mistresses they served were even a fraction of the woman T'Pol was, he could almost see the appeal of such a lifestyle.

The current of his thoughts took him to the next morning, the way she willingly let Trip turn the tables on her and she submitted to her mates' every whim. Jon had always known T'Pol was a special woman, though he never tired of the surprising ways she found to remind him of that.

Jon slid his other hand into his Starfleet blues, squeezing and tugging on his balls as he continued to stroke. Though it had been so unlike T'Pol to the point of being chilling, Jon had to admit the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life was the smile that had spread over her gorgeous face as he touched her and Trip fucked her tethered body relentlessly. Though his sensibilities still struggled with the idea of one being holding complete dominion over another, he couldn't argue that he'd witnessed—experienced!—something of unparalleled beauty in that villa. That morning and the night before had been an exercise in trust, and through it the three of them had soared to a new plane of mutual pleasure and happiness.

Jon released his balls long enough to snag a towel from the nearby rack, barely wadding it up in his lap in time. Tremors rocked his body as he spilled into its blue fleecy softness, leaving him relieved though unfulfilled in the absence of T'Pol's warm curves.

Collecting himself, he tossed the towel into the recycler. It occurred to him that the steward who cleaned and stocked the room may be wondering where they were all going, but he pushed the thought away, citing "rank has its privileges" as he adjusted himself before zipping.

Jon ran some cold water over his face and made a vain attempt to smooth down his hair. He knew he looked like hell, but he simply couldn't find the strength or the motivation to change that right now.

Satisfied that his appearance was as good as it was going to get, Jon firmed his resolve, reminding himself that it was time to go and sit out on the bridge and be the captain. Whether or not T'Pol would be there was questionable, he had no idea how much time had passed.

The door slid open and Jon flinched, startled. He'd nearly walked right into Trip.

Hair mussed, eyes dark and puffy from non-sleep, he regarded Jon's equally bedraggled appearance. He bore the expression of a man who came for answers, but was only met with more questions. "You, too, huh?" he drawled when he finally spoke.

Jon grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him into the ready room. It was time to talk.

And possibly to seek medical assistance.

* * *

Jon walked purposefully into sickbay with Trip at his side. He was still the Captain of this ship and he had a right to find out what the hell was wrong with his first officer, wife or no wife.

T'Pol was in such deep conversation with with Phlox, she didn't appear to notice their arrival—another sign something was just plain wrong with her.

"So, you must do the egg retrieval before the fever is satisfied?" she asked the doctor.

"Everything okay?" Jon asked slowly, surprised to find T'Pol already there. His heart nearly stopped when he saw T'Pol exchange a hesitant glance with Phlox.

"I'll be in my office if you need me, Commander," Phlox told her with a cryptic smile.

Jon glanced over at Trip, who was staring at T'Pol and obviously just as confused. "This can't be good..." the engineer drawled quietly.

Jon's brow creased with worry. _Egg retrieval? _He noted T'Pol's disheveled appearance. She was pale and drawn-looking, her bloodshot eyes wild and swollen. Truth be told, she looked like she was having a hard time holding it together.

"Baby," said Trip, "You don't eat eggs. . ." His voice trailed off as T'Pol glared at him.

"Phlox and I were speaking about a different kind of egg," she snapped.

Jon inhaled. He needed to find out what was wrong with her. This wasn't like her. She wasn't well. "T'Pol, what's going on?"

T'Pol looked Jon in the eye, and then she turned her gaze to Trip. She squared her shoulders and attempted, quite badly, to effect an emotionless mask. What she managed was a parody of her normal expression, and Jon found it chilling.

She inhaled a deep, slow breath and began to speak. Her mating cycle, this _pon farr_, was upon her. Before the fever was satisfied, Phlox was going to harvest her eggs and put them in stasis so he could work on combining them with human sperm. After that procedure, she would need her mates to satisfy the fever. This would merely entail sexual relations over the course of perhaps two days.

"I shall not require you to be much more rigorous in your attentions that usual," she breathed, "However, it will be necessary for you to relieve me of duty during the course of the fever."

Trip blinked. "Two days..."

T'Pol stared at Trip. "Having two mates provides an advantage in this situation. A Vulcan male would also experience the blood fever and have increased stamina. Even with the bond, neither of you will have the same biochemical reaction. So, it is fortunate I will have access to both of you."

Jon shifted his stunned gaze from Trip back to T'Pol. He'd barely heard a word she said. He was still fixated on the first of her two issues. Retrieving eggs meant creating embryos. Embryos meant babies. "We have to decide about having a family..._now_?"

T'Pol drew a shaky breath, wiping a hand across a fevered brow. "It will take Phlox some time to sequence the genes properly." She paused, eyeing both men hungrily. "We can plan for the future once the blood fever is satisfied. However, we will not have another opportunity to harvest eggs for the next seven years."

Jon nodded vacantly, still unsure he actually understood.

"We don't have much time," T'Pol said, derailing Jon's thoughts. "I will brief you on the _pon farr_ rituals as the doctor prepares me for the procedure."

Jon's heart started to beat, and he inhaled deeply. The would be time to think about babies later. T'Pol started to describe the rituals associated with this _pon farr_ business. . .she talked about baths, caves, torches. . .body jewelry. Obviously, they were going to have to adapt some of them to their situation. . .the ship's resources were limited. . .and she had two mates. Two mates she looked about ready to devour.

* * *

The fragrance of ritual incense was the first thing to permeate T'Pol's awareness as the room around her came back into focus. She shivered as she opened her eyes, in part from anticipation, and in part from the sensation of being at once hot and cold, symptomatic of the _plak tow_. The meditation candle burned brightly before her, though on this occasion it proved to be a rather ineffective tether for her thoughts. She looked down at the white gauzy ceremonial robe she wore, unsure at first how she came to be wearing it; she knew only she must fight the urge to tear it from her body for a little while longer.

Shards of memory returned, though in what order they belonged, T'Pol was unsure. She had no idea how much time had passed since Crewman Cutler had escorted her to Jonathan's quarters. Phlox had been insistent that T'Pol not remain unaccompanied as Trip and Jonathan made the necessary preparations for the rituals associated with _pon farr. _Though T'Pol was loathe to admit it, on Vulcan, her mother and closest female relatives would have been on hand to attend her, especially while in the throes of _pon farr_. Here, in the Expanse and lost in the past, she had no one. Shaky hands, a lack of emotional control, and an inability to stay focused made even the simplest tasks associated with getting dressed difficult. She had finally acquiesced, accepting Phlox's argument that as part of the medical staff, Liz Cutler would be sensitive and discrete, preserving T'Pol's dignity and privacy, as well as that of her mates.

T'Pol disliked these moments, when shreds of clarity would return long enough to remind her how vulnerable and dependent she was, and of how her lack of emotional control would necessitate apologies and explanations later. As she desperately longed for the safe, blissful oblivion of the fever to retake her, she realized that they did not have much time.

She was aware of movement around her, but she was unable to connect it with any specific task in any meaningful way. The mattress and pillows had been moved to the floor as she instructed, for the safety of everyone involved. Candles stood in for the torches that would have lined the caves of her family's ceremonial grounds; many aspects of the _pon farr_ rituals would be improvised by necessity, cut off as they were from Vulcan, but her mates were rather clever and would not disappoint her. A smile spread over her face as she reaffirmed that she had chosen wisely.

T'Pol shuddered again as her attention began to meander. The indignity of her lack of control became eclipsed by the ache between her legs. Her shallow breathing quickened. If her mates did not come for her soon, the last vestiges of her rationality would not be enough to stop her from doing what was necessary to survive

It was the closest a Vulcan would ever come to Hell.

The fever burned so hot she was unable to focus. She did not at first recognize the two hands outstretched in front of her as such when she again opened her eyes, nor did she connect to the sound of her own name. Looking beyond the hands, her gaze traveled up the arms and ultimately came to rest upon the bodies her mates. Already having dispensed with their bathrobes, they stood naked before her, ready to help her to rise.

A ravenous smile spread across her face. It was time.

* * *

Jon's eyes narrowed in concern as he heard Trip turn on the shower. He barely recognized the creature before him as T'Pol. Gone was the cool rationality that had so often served as his compass, the woman who had helped him find his way in the dark more times than he cared to count. She'd been replaced by someone who'd oscillated between a feverish waif with a vacant stare, and a starving predator, ready to tear him apart until he was a pile of blood-soaked bones on the floor.

He was somewhat alarmed that he was increasingly okay with the latter.

Humans might not have kept themselves quite as bottled up as Vulcans, but they still had to work to keep their most primal instincts instincts in check, either through suppression or sublimation or fantasy. But seeing her this way awakened something dangerous within him.

Jon watched as Trip reached around and undid the binding on T'Pol's robe. Savagely, T'Pol clutched the fabric, nearly ripping it as she shrugged her shoulders free. Jon never ceased to be awed by the beauty of her bare flesh, but this time she was adorned with the ceremonial jewelry of her clan. Chains of gold and silver draped provocatively around her waist, stones of varying sizes resembling jade and amethyst dangling from them. Two other chains did not dangle but instead hung from jeweled clamps that were fastened to her nipples.

Jon thought back to his experience with such devices, remembering the pleasurable pain. Jon's groin tightened and his dick got even harder than it had been. He knew he shouldn't be looking forward to this, since it was a deadly business to her, but he wanted—_needed_—to satisfy her. He glanced over at Trip, whom he knew was thinking the same thing. The two men locked eyes in momentary gratitude, knowing in another time or place they very well might have had to fight each other to the death in order to have her.

T'Pol moved to grab for them, but Trip brushed her hands down, clasping one into his in the process. "First thing's first, darlin'." With that, he guided her toward the tepid shower that awaited her.

Jon grabbed the basin that contained two sponges and the mixture for T'Pol's ceremonial bath. Of all aspects of the ritual, this was the one he and Trip had to improvise the most. In the absence of a bath tub, the shower would have to stand in for the prescribed underground hot spring. Most of the Vulcan botanicals required for the sacramental water had never been available aboard _Enterprise; _with help from Phlox they'd determined that they were probably used for their cooling and calming effects, so Jon and Trip had agreed to substitute lavender, as it was commonly used in human aromatherapy for the same reason.

Her sensitive nose seemed to appreciate fragrance, as she closed her her eyes and inhaled the lavender mixture as she stepped under the water. She didn't move as Jon and Trip both sponged off every part of her body. When they were done, Trip turned off the water and Jon wrapped her in a towel and dried her carefully. Her breathing quickened as he did so, and he figured her patience was at an end. She remained in something like a trance, but Jon could feel her distress.

Together, he and Trip helped her to the floor. After that, there was little foreplay. Jon held her from behind as the chains around her waist pleasantly bit into his flesh, his arms around her as she eagerly spread her legs for Trip. Jon clutched at her as Trip penetrated her body and started moving. Trip's eyes were closed, but Jon watched his face twist up with intense passion. Trip was as caught up in this as Jon was, practically engulfed by her tumultuous emotions. Jon let himself be swept away as he watched them, and when she climaxed, Jon had to concentrate to keep control so he could take his turn. Trip had come along with her, shivering and moaning before collapsing on her.

Jon shifted and helped him roll off her so the two men could switch positions. T'Pol was still reeling from her orgasm when Jon knelt down and entered her. She gasped and smiled at him briefly before closing her eyes again, throwing her arms around him and scratching at his back, drawing blood. She was so tight and so aroused, Jon didn't know how long he could last, but he pounded into her with little finesse, reveling in the feel of her jewelry cutting into his flesh until she climaxed around him. That pushed him over his edge and he spilled inside her.

There was nothing elegant about this orgasm. Jon just slumped on top of her, high from endorphins and reeling from the primal bond energy swirling in his head. He was vaguely aware of Trip helping him shift to a more comfortable position and the two of them pulling a blanket over T'Pol's shivering, fevered form. She eventually fell into a fitful sleep, and soon both men slept as well, one on each side of her.

* * *

Even as he slept, Jon could feel there was too much room in their makeshift bed. As consciousness sliced into his sleep-induced fog, he became aware of ragged breathing coming from the corner of the room. Opening a cautious eye, he bolted upright, alarmed at what he saw.

T'Pol was before a lit candle, as though she had tried to meditate, but she was in a position far from her customary disciplined, stiff-backed pose. Fetal was more like it. She was on the floor, naked, hugging her knees to herself, shivering. Jon was unable to tell if her labored breathing was in fact stifled sobbing, or if she was simply unable to draw breath due to the uncontrolled quaking of her body.

"T'Pol...!" Jon hissed under his breath, scrambling across the floor. She didn't react as he pulled her up from the rug, drew her into his embrace as he wrapped himself around her like a human cloak. After a moment she moaned softly. She was burning up.

Straining to reach, Jon grabbed a half-empty glass of water from his desk, abandoned there earlier in the night. He felt bad for not getting her fresh, but he was too reluctant to let her go, and in her current condition she wasn't likely to protest, any way.

"Jonathan..." she said hoarsely after draining the glass.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Jon asked, concerned. "Should you be meditating at a time like this?"

"Lack of control...shameful..." T'Pol managed. "Must...regain..."

Jon squeezed his eyes shut. Trip was so much better at this kind of thing, knowing what to say when logic failed her—he'd had longer to practice. Pulling T'Pol closer, he pressed an affectionate kiss into her perspiration-matted hair. "From what I understand, that's not what this time is for," he whispered.

"Ashamed..." she repeated.

Jon knew it wasn't the fever talking. _His_ T'Pol had a tenuous grasp on reality, albeit temporarily. "It's okay to feel that way," he soothed, all the while feeling inadequate and ineffective. "This is new for all three of us." He knew, partly from the bond and partly from just knowing her, that she was having difficulty coping with being so vulnerable and open, even in front of the mates who would love her and protect her whatever came—something Jon himself was only recently able to reconcile.

Inspired, he shifted, guiding T'Pol's chin so he could look her in the eye. She struggled to focus, but she was still with him. "Instead of fighting it, why not try to enjoy it?"

Even in her altered state, she answered him with a climbing eyebrow.

Jon smiled at that. "It only comes once every seven years," He observed playfully, nodding toward Trip's sleeping form. "We're lucky to be part of this."

The last shreds of T'Pol's rational being seemed to consider this, but Jon saw the now-familiar smoldering hunger slowly returning to her eyes. Reaching up to cup Jon's face, she kissed him deeply, never breaking contact as she shifted to straddle him.

Helpless, Jon moaned, his body reacting despite sheer exhaustion. His dick hardened as he ran his hands up and down her soft curves. He was grateful for the chemical help Dr. Phlox had given to him and Trip, though he had to wonder if it had been really necessary, with all the heat and light surging through the bond.

"What's all the racket over there?" Trip's sleepy voice drawled from their bed. "Everything all right?"

Jon smiled into T'Pol's lips. Despite his earlier assurances, it was still strange feeling T'Pol smile back. He broke the kiss long enough to say, "We're fine. We were just coming back to bed."

The embers in T'Pol's eyes told him they were in for a long night.


	17. Chapter 17

For manycomics, whose deliciously sinful artwork inspired the first half of this chapter.

* * *

It was not quite 5:30 am when Jon ventured out to the mess hall to get breakfast for the three of them. Trip and T'Pol were sound asleep, while he was both restless and hungry and wanted to stretch his legs. He brought back enough food for the three of them, just as Chef was setting things out for the early shift.

Jon re-entered his cabin and immediately heard sex noises coming from the bed. Obviously, Trip and T'Pol had woken up while he was gone. As he set out the food, he watched them moving on the bed with rapt attention. Trip was on top of her, his bare ass visible as he thrust into her, and her legs and arms were wrapped around him. Both of them were being very vocal, and Jon found the moaning and gasping noises they made very arousing. He was already anticipating joining them, after he had seen to it that T'Pol ate and drank something to keep her strength up.

Not that she appeared to need it, thought Jon ruefully. _Pon farr_ clearly triggered an adrenaline reaction in her that gave her energy beyond her normal Vulcan stamina. She was insatiable. No wonder she was so glad to have two mates. Alone, she might well have done serious damage to Jon. Or Trip, for that matter.

Finally, T'Pol gave out a protracted, climatic growl and Trip moaned and shuddered against her. Jon chuckled as the euphoria from both their minds washed through his own. He sighed deeply as he sipped on some coffee. Trip rolled off her and his eyes met Jon's as he lay against the pillows. Trip knew Jon was sharing the high he felt, and he grinned before closing his eyes.

T'Pol's mind was gradually clearing, but her body remained in the throes of the fever. She wanted more, and fortunately for her Jonathan had returned. Trip lay by her side, recovering from their encounter. She got up from the bed slowly and approached Jonathan, conscious of his eyes appreciating her naked, oiled form.

He was saying something about breakfast, but she made it clear she had other priorities as she cut him off with a kiss. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and pressed her body against his, moving to remove his clothes. Jonathan broke the kiss and smiled at her, before reaching for a glass of orange juice. "Drink this, first" he said, "You need to stay hydrated. It will also replace some nutrients."

She glared at him. She wasn't human. Her needs at this time were not nutritional. However, she took the glass and drank, if only to please her beloved mate.

When she was done, she unceremoniously set the glass down, freeing her hands to continue pushing Jonathan's clothing away.

"Good girl," whispered Jonathan, as his hands began to roam over her body.

Jonathan wiggled out of his tee shirt as she tugged it upward. T'Pol reveled in the feel of his cool flesh against hers as she draped her arms around him, pressing against him as though she could not get close enough.

With one hand, she pulled his head down toward her for another kiss. As she eagerly explored the contours of his mouth, her other hand groped beneath the waistband of his sweats.

"I still wish you'd eat something" he panted between kisses.

Sliding down the length of his body, she pulled down on the final obstacle between them. She gave a self-satisfied smile as his erection sprang forth. Gripping him firmly, she replied, "As you wish," and got down on her knees.

She eyed his erection ravenously, and he said "That's not what I meant."

She raised her eyebrow at him and took the length of him into her mouth. He gasped and moaned, and she knew he wouldn't be nagging her to eat any more. As she sucked and licked him, she thought she heard Trip in the background, laughing.

She carefully applied all the knowledge she had amassed about Jonathan's body to make sure he was pleasured but not to the point of ejaculation. She needed him inside her.

Finally, when she sensed he was as frustrated as she, she let go and stood up. His strong arms went around her and lifted her so he was in a position to enter her body.

T'Pol whimpered as Jonathan eased her down around him, her need growing. Wrapping her legs around him, she began writhing to create delicious friction between them. Jonathan groaned with pleasure and she gripped him tighter.

She heard motion in the background, and she glanced over and saw Trip approaching.

Trip's cool hands were soon meandering over her back and shoulders as he rained gentle kisses over the back of her neck. His hands feathered down her sides to cup and squeeze the curve of her hips, urging her to grind harder against Jonathan as she threw her head back in ecstasy. Releasing one arm from Jonathan's shoulders, she reached behind her, blindly seeking Trip. She gripped his erection firmly and stroked him, which elicited a moan from him. Awkward though it was, she found herself wanting more of

Trip without releasing Jon. Instinctively, she pressed Trip's erection between her buttocks. In the fog of her lust, she hoped Trip would understand what she wanted—and be able to give it to her.

She heard him gasp, and she feared he would not as he kissed her gently on the neck and stepped back for a moment. But he reached over onto the table and dipped his fingers into the massage oil that remained from the previous night's ritual. She drew a deep breath as his slick fingers began massage her opening.

She locked eyes with Jonathan, who was still inside her, as Trip's finger entered her. Jonathan's eyes were filled with tenderness, as well as fascination. He wasn't moving; like her, he was waiting.

On the verge of losing her patience completely, she finally felt Trip's erection press tentatively against her opening. Difficult though it was in her state of need, T'Pol worked to regulate her breathing and relax as Trip entered her. Though he pushed slowly, confidently, moving with her body's involuntary spasms, his anxiety over not wanting to hurt her careened through the bond.

Finally, both her mates were fully inside her. She sighed deeply and allowed them to support her weight.

Both men held her close as they started to move, gently and slowly, more rocking than thrusting. She looked into Jonathan's eyes and felt Trip's lips on her neck. As bond energy from both of them washed through her mind, she sensed intense pleasure from both her mates, as though they had been fully gripped with the _plak tow_. She belonged to both of them, just as they belonged with each other. They both possessed her—body, mind and _katra_. Pleasure, lust, love...gratitude... it was irrelevant who was feeling what.

They were all feeling _everything_.

"_Vaksurik_," she whispered as her lovers' grunts and moans filled her sensitive ears.

And it _was_ beautiful. The bond that had not so long ago began as a low, steady, barely perceptible hum now roared as it flowed freely between them. A sensuous smile alternately tugged at her lips with the contortions of ecstasy. Emotions manifested themselves as images and colors, pushing her and her husbands higher and higher.

When she finally went over the edge, she was aware of every molecule in her body, every fluttering jolt of pleasure. Her husbands climaxed along with her, shuddering and trembling as they held her, their moans a counter-melody to her primal screams. From her body's pleasure, her mind reached a higher plane, where she not only felt at one with her two mates, but the universe itself. She experienced all her emotion and all her logic at once without being ruled by either of them. She had reached The _Muhlolauk_, a state of euphoric perfection that most Vulcans claimed to be a myth.

A slight, blissful smile appeared at her lips, and she wept a single tear of joy.

The room turned askew as her husbands' knees gave, the waiting mattress on the floor cushioning the impact. They barely noticed, kisses and caresses entirely occupying their attention as a means of holding on to their one-ness.

T'Pol breathed in and out, sleepily reveling in what remained of her euphoria before her eyes gently shut and sleep came.

* * *

T'Pol's eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled calmly, enjoying the feel of being entangled in the arms of both her mates. Though exhausted, her mind was clear, and she recognized the fever had broken after their last encounter.

Normalcy was returning to her thoughts, yet the tumult of emotions remained close to the surface, threatening her control. She would need meditation and solitude to regain her customary level of suppression.

She carefully unwound herself from Trip and Jonathan, and she quietly showed and dressed, amazed that she did not wake them. She positioned herself in front of a candle when Jonathan stirred.

"T'Pol?" he whispered from the bed.

"The fever has broken. I require meditation and solitude," she said softly.

Trip had also awakened, and she heard them whispering to each other. They approached her.

"You sure you're okay, baby?" asked Trip.

"I will be after several hours of meditation," she said, "I thank you both for your assistance."

She glanced up and saw the two men staring at her, both of them clearly unsure of what to do.

"C'mon, Trip," whispered Jon, his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "We can crash in your quarters until she's ready."

As the door shut behind them, Trip sighed. He knew she needed to be alone, but he missed her already. He rubbed weary hands over his face, as though trying to wipe away the second thoughts over leaving T'Pol behind.

"She'll be okay," said Jon, moving toward the shower.

"I know," Trip murmured, following. "I just feel guilty about what she goes through sometimes."

Trip examined his sleep-deprived features in the mirror. He needed a shave.

"She's taking care of herself," Jon said reassuringly as he twisted on the hot water, "and the best thing we can do is let her."

Trip knew Jon was every bit as worried as he was; he was sounding more like a captain than a lover. Trip turned, his protest cut off when he saw Jon holding the shower door open for him.

Trip stripped off his clothes and stepped into the small, steamy shower. For a moment, he longed for the roomer shower in Jon's room, but that faded as Jon started to run his soapy hands over Trip's body. Trip returned the favor, enjoying the touch of Jon's strong hands on his aching body, as well as the feel of Jon's hard muscles beneath his own fingers. The hot water was soothing, and Trip knew he'd have bruises soon.

As Jon rinsed the last bit of soap of Trip's body, their eyes locked. "We saved her," said Jon.

Trip smiled. Jon's arms went around him and pulled him close. T'Pol's fever may have broken, but she'd left the two of them with pent up sexual energy—something made clear by the fact that both of them had become very aroused in the shower. Jon's mouth found Trip's, and they shared a deep, slow open-mouthed kiss.

The kiss lasted a good while, and both men knew they needed to expend the sexual energy that remained between them. Yet, they were in no hurry as they got out of the shower and dried each other off. Trip headed for his bed and sat down.

Jon sat down as well, on the other end of the bed. Trip laid back and closed his eyes, even though he knew he was too restless to sleep. He didn't need to look to know Jon was next to him, and Trip soon found himself scooting over to be nearer to him.

Jon settled in beside him and drew him into another kiss. Exhausted as he was, Trip's body twitched with excitement. He enjoyed the feel of Jon's strong arms around him as they sank together into the mattress.

Jon opened his mouth, and Trip thrust his tongue inside. As much as he had loved putting all the focus on T'Pol, it felt good to kiss Jon again.

Before long they were caressing each other more aggressively. Jon shifted, pulling Trip on top of him. Trip sighed happily as he felt Jon's arousal pressed against his stomach. He moved his body to create friction, and Jon closed his eyes and moaned. Trip then felt Jon's hand's on his ass, pulling him even closer.

Trip's own erection ached, and he needed relief. As if in answer, Jon slipped his hand between their bodies and grabbed him tightly. Trip moaned, beginning to move with Jon's rhythmic grip.

Soon, Jon was shifting beneath him. Trip felt his knees draw upward toward his chest, angling his hips up. There was no mistaking what Jon wanted.

Panic and exhilaration tangled within Trip as he met Jon's gaze. He tried to calm himself. Obviously he had done this before; that it had never been with another man didn't matter. It was past the time for taboos, past the time to stop thinking of Jon as his friend and captain.

Jon gave the slightest nod as they locked eyes: permission granted to Trip's unspoken question.

Trip gave in to his desire to be closer than ever to Jon. He knew he had to be careful, go slowly. He didn't want to botch this. He reached over and retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand, squeezing some into his hand. Then, he started working Jon open with his slick fingers the same way he had done with T'Pol earlier. Trip kept his eyes on Jon's face, searching for any signs of pain. He didn't see any.

To his astonishment, Trip realized he wanted this—as much as Jon apparently did. He needed to fuck Jon. Trip shifted and started to push himself inside. It was slow going, but he was soon enveloped by his lover's body.

Trip felt Jon wince a few times, but he made no move for Trip to stop, which was good because Trip couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. He began to thrust, experimenting with different angles until he clearly hit a good one and Jon cried out with pleasure. Trip leaned down to meet Jon's lips in another kiss.

Trip began moving a little faster. Jon's kiss became rougher, more intense. Soon they were moaning and grunting into each other's mouths, punctuating every move Trip made.

The telepathy thing that was between them really kicked in then, and Trip lost track of whether he was feeling Jon's pleasure or his own. Eventually, when Jon orgasmed, it triggered Trip's and he came inside his..._husband_? Was that right?

Breathless, Trip collapsed onto Jon, their chests heaving violently into each other. Jon gripped him tightly, and as he enjoyed the security of Jon's embrace, it occurred to him: Their triad marriage was now complete in every way.

* * *

T'Pol's eyes snapped open.

Chaotic images and emotions ran riot through the bond, distracting from her quest for serenity and balance. Lust...fear...desire...exhilaration...need...all clamored for her attention as they swelled, peaked...then gave way to satisfaction, hope, and love.

One last smile fought for control over her puckering lips as she blew out the flame before her.


	18. Epilogue

_A/N: It's the end of Equilateral, but not the end of AT&T. I'll be back soon with a new adventure for them. In the meantime, you can keep up with me at __The Delphic Expanse dot com__. Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride!_

_

* * *

_

_Twelve Years Later..._

Jon walked up the garden path to his house. The simple, boxy structure sat on a hill over-looking the small human colony, of which he was president. The house, with its big windows and efficient, logical design was nearly twelve years old - built shortly after _Enterprise_ had destroyed the delphic spheres and averted the Xindi Attack on Earth.

After that, Jon had decided the crew could not risk corrupting the timeline further by returning to Earth. With T'Pol's help, he had instead found an M-class planet with no humanoids and a temperate climate where they settled and built a community. Schools, farms, businesses had begun to flourish. When it wasn't on trade missions, _Enterprise_ orbited above and protected the colony.

The settlement remained largely human, but a few local aliens had settled there as well, some of them pairing off with humans. There had been problems now and again. Labor disputes. Arguments over trade. But for the most part, the colony thrived.

But it was work keeping it all together. He could not have done it without all his former senior officers, especially Trip and T'Pol. Trip was in charge of all the colony's engineering, from the building of roads and schools, to power systems. T'Pol, meanwhile, used her exceptional organizational skills to see to it the colony was well-organized and efficient. She designed the school system, planned the colony's layout with room for growth and even developed resource strategies.

T'Pol managed to do all that while balancing the demands of motherhood. It hadn't been easy for her, carrying five healthy, pointed-eared children to term; it would have been impossible without medical intervention from Phlox and Liz Cutler. There had been a few disappointments along the way, but overall, things had gone better than Jon and his little family had dared to hope.

The four oldest had come from eggs retrieved from T'Pol's first _pon farr._ They hadn't planned to have any children after her second cycle, but Phlox said that the technology had improved and they should consider it. So, they had been blessed with Charlotte, only just five, who was practically a replica of her mother—so much so, neither Jon nor Trip knew for sure who her biological father was. When Jon had inquired, Phlox had merely smiled enigmatically and asked why it mattered.

The doctor had been right. It didn't matter. Both Charlotte's fathers loved her and all the children equally, raising them as their own.

Henry and Elizabeth greeted him at the door, hugging him and chattering about their day, especially imminent their school trip to _Enterprise_. At seven and eight respectively, their enthusiasm was infectious. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon noticed five bags lined up at the door. T'Pol had insisted regular trips into space be part of of the school's curriculum, so the colony's children would grow up accustomed to space travel. The harsh reality was that _Enterprise_ would need replacement personnel eventually. The ship's remaining compliment was already stretched thin; so it was agreed that the colony's children would begin training on ship's systems as teenagers. The idea of compulsory service had not yet been ruled out, though Jon wished they could find another way.

"Lorian gets to do his first zero g training," said Henry, his voice hinting at jealousy as his hazel eyes glanced at his older brother. The boy had a sense of adventure that was going to be trouble, once he got a little older. He already wanted nothing more than to go live on _Enterprise_ someday, serving under his uncle, Captain Reed. Jon was never sure if he was more proud or terrified by the idea, wanting to keep his children out of harm's way for the rest of their lives.

"He'll be able to tell you all about it so that you'll be ready for next year," replied Jon, affectionately rearranging the boy's brown hair as he smiled over at Lorian, who had hung back. Aside from the Vulcan posture and pointed ears, their oldest was the spitting image of Trip. It was hard to believe he'd just had his tenth birthday. He had definitely inherited his mother's eye for detail and organization. He was popular with the settlement's other children, and Jon imagined he would one day be the colony's future leader.

Lorian greeted his "Daddy Jon" with a nod. "I'll be sure to do that," he replied. "I'm also planning on sending you, Trip and Mother regular updates about all our endeavors on the ship."

Jon smiled as he noticed Elizabeth's slight eyeroll, "We'll appreciate that. Any special plans, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth instantly beamed. "Dr. Cutler said I could help her paint a mural in sickbay!" Jon noticed she sported two blond braids that were too neat and orderly to be the work of her other father. She was the artist of the family, always drawing and painting. T'Pol had ambitions that the girl would become an architect, but both Jon and Trip thought she might just be the colony's first fine artist. Regardless, those blue eyes of hers already had Jon anticipating that boys would be trouble in a few short years.

T'Mir stepped forward. "Anna Hess is going to allow me to assist her in Engineering," said the girl. "Daddy Trip said he thinks I can be of great help." Their second oldest at nine, T'Mir's green eyes sparkled with a passion that betrayed a penchant for warp theory that would have made her grandfather Henry Archer proud. Jon suppressed a laugh. In contrast to Elizabeth, her brown braids were _definitely_ the work of her other father. Not that he could've done any better himself; braids that wouldn't come undone were T'Pol's domain.

"All good," replied Jon, "Just make sure you all complete your lessons as well."

"I'll see to it," replied Lorian, and Elizabeth returned to looking annoyed.

"You'll especially have to keep an eye on Charlotte, since it's her first time away." Jon looked around. "Where _is_ Charlotte?"

"She forgot her teddy bear," replied Elizabeth. "She's looking for it."

At that, Trip appeared in the doorway carrying Charlotte, plush brown bear clutched to her chest. "Henry? Any idea how Teddy ended up in one of my work benches?"

Henry's eyes widened, and he blushed. "I put it there for safe keeping."

Moving toward Jon, Trip shot their son a dubious but amused look. "Uh-huh. Isn't that what you said about your socks last week? And Lizzie's doll the week before?"

Jon suppressed a chuckle at Henry's sheepish look. The boy knew he'd been beaten. He turned his attention to Trip, who gave Charlotte a squeeze. "Alright, darlin'. Give daddy some sugar." Charlotte obliged with a peck on the cheek, which Trip returned with a raspberry, sending the child into squeals of laughter as he passed her to Jon.

"How's my girl?" asked Jon, "Excited to be going into space by yourself?"

Charlotte nodded furiously, just as her mother appeared from the kitchen. T'Pol had taken to dressing more Vulcan, letting her hair grow long and braiding it, but this night her hair flowed freely and she had chosen to wear the purple human style dress from years ago. She was stunning, but certain nuances that would only be visible to him and Trip clouded her features; Charlotte may have been excited, but T'Pol most certainly was not. She had expressed reservations about Charlotte going on the school trip, given her young age and her deep attachment to all three of her parents.

"You're going to do just fine. Your brothers are going to look out for you, right? And Uncle Malcolm and Uncle Matt will also be there, in case you—or Teddy—need anything." Jon said the words to Charlotte, but he was really speaking to T'Pol.

T'Pol sighed. Charlotte desperately wanted to join her siblings, and Reed and Hayes had jumped at the chance to take care of her. They were considering adopting a child to raise as their own, and they had decided taking care of Charlotte would make a great practice run. Charlotte would be staying with them, while the older children would be staying with their classmates in specially set up dorms.

"It's about time for the transport," said Trip, "Everybody grab your bag."

The kids all scrambled to retrieve their duffels, including Charlotte, whose bag was a bit smaller than the others' so she could easily carry it.

"Have fun, guys," said Trip. He was all smiles, but Jon knew Trip was a little sad to see them go. He felt the same way.

"Have a gratifying journey," said T'Pol, who nodded to each of them, still looking worried when her eyes fell on Charlotte.

"Don't hesitate to communicate, if need be," said Jon. After that, it was all goodbyes before Trip contacted Hess and each child transported in turn. Jon marveled at how unafraid they all were. But then again, they had all been transporting since before they were born. It was a normal, if not common, part of their lives.

T'Pol was staring at the space where her children had been.

"They'll be fine," Jon assured her, "including Charlotte."

Trip approached T'Pol and gave her an affectionate squeeze. "And we have the house to ourselves for three whole days," he said, shooting a devilish look at Jon.

Jon smiled, but he also realized how tired he was.

"You should rest," said T'Pol, who clearly sensed his exhaustion.

"Maybe he needs food," said Trip. "We've got dinner going. One that doesn't appeal to kids."

Jon smiled at that, unconsciously spinning his wedding ring around with his thumb. Its presence had become a part of him, but he liked to remind himself it was there from time to time. Trip and T'Pol each had one identical to his, simple platinum bands they began wearing very shortly after her first _pon farr_. There had been no ceremony—with the presence of the bond, each of the partners had agreed that they couldn't possibly _be_ any more married than they already were. Only a note in the ship's log and the appearance of the rings commemorated their change in marital status.

He was looking forward to some alone time with his husband and wife, though he missed the brood already. Even after all these years, he was still amazed at how well their unusual family had worked out. From time to time, Phlox reminded him just how beneficial to the colony's gene pool it was the T'Pol had children by more than one father. That may not have been the reason they came together, but it was certainly a benefit. Beyond that, the three of them - and the rest of the colony - had come to see their triad marriages as normal as Andorians or Denobulans saw their marriages. Given the necessity of gene diversification and the fact that men outnumbered the women, group marriages simply became a part of the colony's culture.

"You sit down," said Trip, bring Jon back to the present, "I'll get you something to drink while we finish dinner."

Jon sighed. He wanted to offer to help, but he'd been in an all day labor dispute meeting and he was wiped out. He just didn't have the energy he once did, though T'Pol saw to it he took care of himself. _Must be getting old_, he thought wryly, noting that these days there were more and more streaks of white in his hair. It wasn't fair that Trip was only getting a little at the temples. Regardless, if he was going to make the most of their evening, he need to rest. He let Trip and T'Pol finish the meal, which the three of them then enjoyed at a very leisurely pace. They finished an entire bottle of wine as well, as Trip and Jon found their way to the big, living room couch. Their eyes asked their unspoken question when she didn't follow them.

"I'll return shortly with another bottle," she explained.

Jon moved to get up, but Trip held him back.

"You heard the lady," said Trip as he ran a finger down the back of Jon's neck, "She wants us relax."

Trip pressed harder, and Jon gasped. After all these years, Vulcan neuropressue still hit the spot.

As his body relaxed, Jon leaned in and covered Trip's mouth with his own, enjoying the taste of the wine as their tongues entwined. Trip pulled Jon into his strong embrace, and Jon melted against him. Jon's hands ran down Trip's back and grabbed his ass, clutching it tightly.

After a long while, Jon opened his eyes to see T'Pol standing behind the couch, bottle in hand, watching. He continued to kiss Trip, knowing just how much their wife enjoyed the sight.

She finally approached, placing the bottle on the coffee table and sitting down behind Jon, so that Trip and T'Pol faced each other with Jon in the middle. Although very conscious of her presence, Jon continued to kiss Trip. T'Pol lazily began running her fingers up and down Jon's back, and then almost suddenly, Trip shifted and pushed Jon back into T'Pol's arms. Trip broke their kiss and gently moved Jon's head so T'Pol could give him a slow open mouthed kiss.

Jon sighed contentedly at T'Pol's warmth against his back as he leisurely explored the contours of her mouth. Trip shifted to straddle him, and now Jon was pressed between their bodies. He moaned, breaking the kiss with T'Pol as his aching erection felt Trip's own arousal pushing into it.

Almost simultaneously, Trip leaned forward and T'Pol reached up so their mouths met in a deep kiss.

Jon's chest tightened as Trip began to rub against him. The soft sighs and moans were almost enough to make him come as Trip and T'Pol kissed over his shoulder. Jon was determined to make it last, however; tonight wasn't about getting each other off quickly and quietly without waking the children. Tonight was about the three of them.

Before Jon could think any further, Trip's mouth was again on his...then T'Pol's, and they exchanged a slow, leisurely kiss, three tongues twisting and caressing, building the pressure in each other's bodies.

T'Pol's warm hands found their way between the two men, and she rubbed Jon's erection through his pants before undoing the clasp. Trip and T'Pol broke their kiss, both looking down. Trip moved back slightly and helped her pull out Jon's dick.

Jon moaned at the sensation of cool air against skin, and, with a mischievous grin, Trip wiggled downward.

"Trip, I don't know if I ca...oh, god..." It took every shred of control Jon had left to not come the moment Trip's mouth closed around him. In self-defense, he distracted himself by sliding his hand back and under the hem of T'Pol's dress.

He slipped his fingers under her panties, finding her hot and wet. She moaned in his ear and clutched him tightly. While Trip's cool mouth continued to devour him, Jon craned his neck so he could kiss T'Pol as he caressed her.

The dual pleasure of giving and taking kept Jon from going over the edge, at least for a while. But when Trip was getting too close, Jon gestured for him to stop. Trip got the message, crawling up Jon's body to join in kissing T'Pol.

Jon's world was the sensation of bodies pressed into his and the chorus of panting and soft moans in his ears. Lips and teeth nibbled ravenously at his mouth. Amidst the chaos of it all he felt Trip's finger slip in beside his. Jon opened one eye just long enough to exchange a look with Trip, and a pact was made.

Before long, T'Pol was sighing raggedly, raking her hands through each of her husbands' hair as they worked her in tandem. Each had a finger inside her, fluttering and sliding against her most sensitive places. Jon's body ached to come every time his finger brushed against Trip's.

But Jon kept control of himself as he concentrated on pushing T'Pol over the edge. He soon recognized the contractions around his finger, and she moaned and spasmed beneath them. By now, the two men knew exactly how long they could continue to extend her pleasure before gently removing their fingers. T'Pol sighed deeply, eyes closed, and Jon reached up and put his finger in her mouth.

As she obediently sucked his finger clean, Trip placed his finger in Jon's mouth, and he did the same. Jon's eyes met Trip's, who grinned mischievously. They both knew they weren't remotely done with T'Pol. They had just begun.

"You wanna move this party into the bedroom?" asked Trip.

"You read my mind," laughed Jon.

* * *

T'Pol breathed in and out, feeling exhilarated. Jon had laid her gently down on the bed, and now she saw her two husbands standing over her in silhouette. She knew their keen human eyes could see her better in the low light than she could see them, and she inhaled deeply in anticipation of their attentions.

T'Pol closed her eyes, sinking further into the mattress. Her body quivered as one pair of hands teased her nipples through the silk of her dress, another pair feathering its way up her thighs under the hem. Instinctively she drew her legs up, inviting those hands higher still. A mouth descended upon hers in a smoldering kiss—Trip, she knew from his taste.

His cool tongue explored her mouth, and Jonathan's hands began slowly pulling down her panties, moving the delicate silk over her legs before tossing them aside. She returned Trip's kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and clutching at his hair as Jonathan peppered kisses up her legs.

Trip broke the kiss and reached around to undo the clasp of her dress. Jonathan grabbed the hem and pushed the skirt above her waist before kissing the inside of her thigh. Trip then pulled the dress up over her head, so she was naked. Trip looked her over, smiling slightly as Jonathan pressed his tongue between her legs.

T'Pol cried out at the jolt of pleasure surging through her veins, her body tightening from the momentary sensation of free-fall. Trip showed her no mercy, cupping her breasts and drawing first one nipple, then the other into his cool mouth.

Jonathan continued licking her, exerting just the right amount of pressure. Her thighs quivered and she placed her feet on his back. Trip rained kisses up her collarbone and neck, and finally her ear. He blew in it gently, causing her to shiver. "That's it, baby, I want to see your face when you come for Jon."

T'Pol's fingers clawed into the duvet. She was fighting the inevitable, trying to make it last beyond reason. She felt Trip's hand caress her cheek, gently pushing her head toward him as he kissed her tenderly on swollen lips. "Open your eyes. Look at me, baby."

Jonathan penetrated her with one finger, then two, pushing harder with his tongue and pulling with his lips. T'Pol obeyed to see Trip's smiling eyes, dark with passion and desire as he watched her screaming and writhing in climax.

Jonathan gave her no time to recover. He removed his fingers and crawled up her body, spreading her legs even wider. He positioned himself just right as he filled her body with his erection. T'Pol gasped and Jonathan's gaze met hers.

For a long time, he didn't move. He just smiled at her as he enjoyed the feeling of being inside her - a feeling he shared with her. She glanced over at Trip who was watching them but making no move to join them.

T'Pol, on the other hand, needed to feel Trip. She reached over and unbuttoned his shirt with as much calculated Vulcan efficiency her post-climatic haze would allow. Tossing it over the edge of the bed, Trip leaned down to kiss T'Pol as Jonathan began to move inside of her.

T'Pol reveled in the feel of Trip's bare chest covering her as they kissed, Jonathan continuing to build blissful tension within her with his every move.

Her flesh buckled with sudden cold as Trip sat up. Her momentary disappointment was abated as she watched Trip pull Jonathan into a deep kiss, working to free him of his shirt as well.

Jonathan moved faster and faster as Trip managed to remove Jonathan's shirt, flinging it aside. Trip then got on his knees and began caressing Jon's back. T'Pol pulled Jonathan close to her and watched as Trip's hands moved lower and slipped beneath Jon's pants and began kneading his ass.

Jonathan moaned into her ear and caused her to shiver. He arched upward to created space between them and Trip shifted so he could reach between their bodies. Trip's fingers found her clitoris and began to skillfully taunt her. She gasped at the spasms of pleasure that rocked through her body, closing her eyes. As she climaxed around Jonathan, he removed himself from her body, leaving her feeling empty.

T'Pol squeezed her eyes shut, a conflict of disappointment and ecstasy playing out within her. She heard rustling, soft grunting, and kissing noises. Before she could open an eye she cried out, full again before the waves of her climax had fully dissipated.

She wrapped her legs and arms around Trip, pulling him close to her. He whispered lovingly into her ear as he began to move inside her. She opened her eyes and saw Jonathan had gotten to his knees and was gently tracing random patterns Trip's back.

T'Pol was drowning in emotion and sensation. No longer able to anchor herself to reality, she let the blissful current of the bond pull her under. She felt at one with both her mates in such a way that transcended logic and emotion.

* * *

Trip was engulfed by pleasure, as sure as he had been engulfed by T'Pol's hot body. He and Jon had been taking turns for what seemed like hours, giving T'Pol as much pleasure as they could. Thanks to the bond, he knew she'd reached the state of meditative perfection - where her body, mind and _katra_ were balanced and at peace. She shared these sensations with her mates through the bond, and the joy of it simply washed through his mind.

Jon had been resting at their side, but he got up and began touching Trip's back. His movements mirrored Trip's at first, then Jon began to set the pace, slowing Trip down as his hands moved lower and lower.

A strangled moan of anticipation found its way from Trip's throat. He knew what Jon was about to do. Trip wanted—no, he _needed_—Jon to join him and T'Pol in the most complete way possible. The three of them had to be joined in body, as they were in mind and _katra_.

Jon's hands moved lower and lower, feeling cool and pleasant in contrast to T'Pol's hot body as they massaged Trip's ass. Trip's stomach tightened in anticipation, and his eyes locked with T'Pol's. Trip winced as Jon's cold, slick fingers touched him. Trip breathed in and out, carefully relaxing as Jon's fingers worked him open.

Trip stopped moving inside of T'Pol for just a moment. Her eyes shimmered as she waited expectantly, lips parted as her chest heaved. Trip felt Jon's dick press against his opening, slowly, carefully sliding in.

Three cried out as one.

* * *

Hours later, T'Pol awoke. Flanked by both her husbands, she felt protected by their cool embrace. The euphoria they had created earlier had dissipated, but the sense of tranquility had not.

It was pleasing to spend time alone with her mates. She missed her children of course, but all of them would one day be grown and out of the house, with lives and mates of their own. But she would have Jonathan and Trip for as long as they lived. The bond between the three of them was forever, and out of it they had created a most beautiful life.


End file.
